What are elementals? They’re not the subject or the background. They are layers of sheers usually that create the ilusion of air, water, clouds, fire. Things that are usually translucent or transparent. They change color and texture within the piece without being obtrusive. Usually they have no hard edges. Instead, we see through them, but they help create the illusion of those elements by shifting the colors.
I put in my elementals directly after I’ve chosen my background and finished embroidering my subject.
Up until now, I’ve made my elementals out of sheers, lace, hand painted lace, and dyed cheesecloth. I love those. But I always want more options.
Since I’ve been able to make my own rubbing plates, I’ve had options to create that layered effect. Most rubbing plates create texture or give you a subject. The ones I made with stencils are created to make trees, clouds, waves and waters. Why does rubbed fabric work for that? It has soft edges, It blends into colors, and you can layer your rubbings just like layers of sheers..
beginning backgroundembroidered fish
I’m very pleased with the background and the fish. But I wanted the feeling of reflected trees and pond surface.
Fish placed in background rubbed with tree images and water reflectons. Rocks added.
The water and the reflected trees add a hazy elemental layer. What now? I’m unsure. I think it needs a layer of sheer waters as well.
Layers suit water. If you’ve ever walked into a pond, you can feel the layers of water, warmer or colder. It makes sense in fabric as well. I’m hoping to create three worlds, the bottom of the pond, the surface of the water, and the bare trees above the surface. Time to get out the silk leaves and organza.
This is an ongoing series about making rubbing plates, part two.You’ll find part 1, Hunting for Rubbing Plates in last week’s blog. I’ve been exploring making my own rubbing plates with modeling paste and stencils.
Modeling paste costs the earth. And it comes in pretty tiny jars. Not to fear. It turns out to be easy to make with dirt cheap supplies.
I’ve seen several recipes, but none of them seem fussy. People just pour in ingredients and mix them until it’s the right consistency for their work. The peppermint comment is a rememberance to school paste and a joke. PLEASE DON”T EAT THIS STUFF.
Basic Recipe
Corn Starch
Colored Acrylic Paint
White School Glue
Container with Lid
Spritz bottle with water
Roughly equal parts glue and corn starch. Add a dash of acryllic paste, mix, sprits with water if it’s too thick.
Something no one seems to say is that the cornstarch seems to thicken quickly. It may help to spritz it several times in a session. Covered it will last for 3-4 days.
Colored acrylic paint is a nicety I discovered by accident. I didn’t have white. You can see how your stencil is working if you are working with colored paste. Much recommended.
I’m using foam board as a background. It’s a compromise. Wood is just too heavy and cardboard is to light. I’m using washer weights to hold down the larger pieces from curving as the dry. I cut the foam board into stencil sizes with a boxcutter and a plastic ruler. Foam board can come apart at the edges. I’m using blue masking tape around the edges to hold it together.
Picking Stencils
There is a staggering amount of stencils available. Once you banish the cute puppies and cats, there is an endless amount of choice.
Look for stencils that:
Don’t have large empty spaces within the design
Have a moderate amount of internal design
The right size for the designs you intend. This won’t stretch or shrink in any way.
Are made of tough plastic you can reuse
Don’t have really tiny lines in them
Making the Rubbing Plate
Set your stencil where you want it. Use a pallet knife to apply the past. A flat scraper or dead credit card is a good tool for smoothing things. Cover your design thouroughly and scrape off all the extra. Lift the stencil off carefully.
I have a bucket of water I put the used stencils in. That makes clean up easier.
You’ll find the design is lightly raised from the surface.
I usually smooth the edges a bit with some sylicon brushes and water.
Let it dry thoroughly.
That’s it. After it dries, you can take a nail file and smooth any rough edges.
Next week I’ll explore what I can do with these plates and some fabric.
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?
I’ve whined a bit about larger work this month, mostly because I had 6 full sized pieces to finish. Not fun. But all but one is done.
So in response to that, and in giving myself a break, I decided to do something smaller. These Japanese cranes have been on my mind for a wile. Originally they were on a textile.
People talk about making a smaller version of something and then blowing it up. I’ve never found that works. The size changes what you can do with your stitchery.
When I work large, my thread color choices have to fill in a space. It’s a larger space. I do have a formula for that. And a basic color strategy.
I work dark to light.
The color of my background is the light within the piece. So that color has to be part of the choices.
Everything is accentuated. I choose my colors to be more intense than the overall effect I want
Your eye will mix the colors. Even if they don’t seem to go together. Don’t be afraid.
I choose
A dark tone of my desired color.
A shader, usually either purple, brown, dark green or blue.Often I’ll use a complement from my desired color
Several shades of th chosen color.. They can differ in tone and clarity, but they need to be lined up dark to light.
A shocker. Usually the complement in a bright form
A light color that is the color of the piece.
The lightest color. Usually lighter than you want the piece to be as a highlight.
That fills in a lot of space.. It needs to. It allows for some intense coloration.
Smaller work is smaller space. No help for it. The stitching isn’t as intense and you end up with a much small space to fill in. So your choices pull in.
For your thread choices you’ll want.
The darkest tone of your color
A toner, complement, brown, blue, or purple
A mid color
Maybe a shocker
A light color
May be a highlight color
It’s the same theory, but it’s stepped down for smaller spaces. I don’t like to work that way because it makes wild choices feel more intense. It abstracts very quickly
So I worked on these cranes this week. They’re white, but I worked up to that with a lot of soft toned pastels and greys. I was completely worn out on them until I slipped in a bit of turquoise.
I’m not wildly unhappy with this, but I feel limited by it
.The joke is that the ended up fitting into a yard of hand dye, the size I most often use for large quilts.
I don’t often do this, but I have a pervasive urge to redraw the image bigger, and go wild with the colors, just to see what I get.
It’s always good to change things in your work. Any change is a challenge. Chainge the size, change your pallet, change your subject, and certainly at the right moment, change your undies. Change is good.
I’ve been prepping for a show proposal for weeks now. While I was working through my machine woes, I couldn’t back and bind the larger quilts. Now that I have a functional 930, I could accomplish that.
Two years ago, I started this heron piece. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s a heron drawing I found in my files. It was lovely. So I embroidered it and fit it into a quilt.
But it’s large. The word large is inadequate. It’s roughly 59″ x 59″ It’s larger than I’m tall.
Embroidering it wasn’t’ the problem. But after you add a back and a layer of felt, you have a lump. A very large lump.
So it sat the corner. And I became afraid of it. I made a myth of it. It was too large. It wouldn’t fit through the machine. My arms aren’t as strong as they used to be.
I had a friend ask if I could make it work if I cut it up in some way. That shook me loose. It wasn’t a bad quilt, or even a failed quilt. It was just too big. And I was being a coward.
After that I went hunting my big girl panties.
All of those things are true. It’s too large, it did not fit prettily into the machine. I had to jam it under the machine head. And my arms may be less strong, but my will..? Never doubt my will. No one can tell me no but me.
There’s no can’t like won’t, Sometimes we build myths about our work. “It’s so good.” “It’s no good.” “It will never lie flat” Almost all of that is irrelevant. I won’t know i it’s good for some while after I finish it. I need to stop the negativity and just step into the task. It was backed, quilted and bound in 3 days.
Here’s the details on Great Blue
Here are the other quilts I’ve set up for my proposal. I think the heron’s really necessary. Big girl panties and all. Wish me luck.
Willow MarchEgretBlue FishOctopi ReelBsvkyard ConversationWaterfallBlue PondSnake in the GrassIn the ShellBig FishWaterfall
Do you remember in the Wizard of Oz when they fixed the tin man with an oilcan?
Let’s just start this out by saying I am not a mechanic. By training or inclination. I have 60 years of working with sewing machines by way of experience. I am in no way recommending this proceedure. I’m telling you it worked for me.
You know I’ve been wrestling with my machines. It all came to a head last week when the working 930 Bernina froze solid, mid stitch. This is the fourth machine that has done that.
Don looked at me and said, “Have you oiled it?” Of course I oiled it. All the places in the book.
Fixing is Don’s job. Oiling is mine. Besides, I was restless and distraught and desperate. I got out the new shop light and oiled everything that moved metal against metal. There were a lot of places I would have never found without the light. It felt fruitless. Don said, “Let it sit.” That felt awful, but there wasn’t anything else to do.
The next day, the wheel budged just a bit. I pushed at it. It rotated a bit in a jerky way. Don said, “Let it sit.” I oiled it again like watering the garden.
The next day it didn’t move at all. Or the day after that, Or the day after that. I kept oiling.
Today was the day I pushed the wheel and it moved. All the way around. I got out the light and saw a hunk of thread I’d missed. I pulled it out bit by bit with a hemostate. I oiled again He put it back together and it ran. I kissed both him and the machine.
It sounds simple, but it’s not. The manual on your machine suggests several oiling parts. The idea is that your mechanic will get the other spots during a tune up. That assumes your machine is under ten years old. And being serviced regularly. And that your mechanic knows the older machines. As machines age, they get dry. In places that are hard to reach and not documented.
So the oil can be the cure. Except when it’s not.
Know your machine
What is your machine made of? Outsides don’t count. Insides do. Oil will abrade plastic, and possibly nylon. So you NEVER oil something that’s plastic on metal or plastic on plastic. Only oil metal on metal. Tap on it with your screwdriver if you aren’t sure. You’ll hear the difference.
I was shocked with what I could see with a magnifying shop light. I have several, but this is clearly the best of them. I found places on my machine I’d never heard about, and I do have a mechanics manual.
You also don’t want to open anything that will void the waranty. My machines are 20-40 years old, so that doesn’t matter. Newer machines are also much more complex. You may want to talk to your dealer.
If you’re cleared, take off the panels you can. We’re looking for the secret spots. They hide in the dark.
This is an answer for a machine that is stuck. If your machine is really truly broken instead of stuck, it will tell you. Listen. Pops, bangs, screams, grinds, smoke, the smell of burned plastic, or sounds like it’s chewing, are all indications that something broke. Stop immediately. This will not self heal. Oil it, but don’t expect that to fix the problem.
When and where do you oil?
If your machine is working well enough to move the wheel by hand, you can see all the places where it moves. Oil moving parts that are metal on metal. You will find more places if you can turn the wheel to see where they are.
If it’s not moving at all, oil what you can see. Check that what you’re oiling is metal on metal.
Don’t be upset if you don’t get an immediate response. Oil seeps in. If it won’t move at once, give it some time to penetrate.
What kind of oil? Buy your oil at the dealership. Oil is not all the same. Some kinds actually have shellac in them. If like me, you have many machines, you can buy in bulk. Bernina Jeff. of High Fashion Sewing, in Junction, CO, was kind enough to show us the oil he uses: Velocite # 10 spindle oil. I trust Bernina Jeff. His videos are accessible. He is knowledgeable and kindly. I purchased a number of small bottles and a pint of oil.
Can you oil too much? Of course you can. If you’ve got a puddle, there you are. Wipe it up and call it done. I like to use flannel to clean up oil.
Do check out Bernina Jeff. He has great machining toys for sale, knows his stuff and is a good and gentle teacher.
I do hope you never need this. But I intend to oil every machine I’ve got down to the nubs.
I have to say that this week has left me exhausted. My new to me 930 froze mid stitch, and I am, again. scrambling. Currently working are the 220 and the 20 U Singer.
If it sounds like a first world problem, you’re probably right. But I sew every day, usually around 3-4 hours a day. It’s more than a job. It’s not quite an adventure. It’s certainly my mental health.
When I was teaching, occasionally I’d get a student who would ask me how to do something. Usually it was an amazing idea. But I’d never tried it. I was sorry to tell them I didn’t know exactly how to do that, but that they eventually would. Art is not all about inspiration, and public statements. It’s often fed by the ability to hunt the snark, find a way to make things as you wish. It’s damn hard work.
But if it’s important enough, you find a way. And many artists have the decency to make their journey available to others, so that our art grows, not just in volume or in content but in ability. It’s why we write. It’s why we teach.
If I said that to you in class at one point, I apologize profusely. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it’s what you wanted to hear. And I thank you for not having hit me.
The art quilt movement rebuilt quilting. Part of it hunted down old skills: hand stitching, hand quilting, pattern pieces, paper piecing and the like. Part of it is new tech: rotary cutters, machine work, computer design, different materials and stabilizers, different threads.
This is not the glamourous part of art. It’s grueling. Try one thing, try another. Look for an answer. Take the best compromise you’ve got.
Edging with three hoops on the 20U
I’m currently working on a koi fish quilt, working title, Upstream. It includes a kick ass koi and waterfalls over cliffs. I’m proud to say I figured out how to do the detail stitching on the 20 U. It involved 3 metal stackable hoops. I’m waiting with some anticipation for my Maggie Frame to arrive. It may really change the whole hooping process
The hoops are important because I can’t get a foot to work on the 20 U. The one foot that works won’t deal with the thickness of the quilt sandwich. Other feet I tried didn’t work with the machine or allow for a zigzag stitch.
For those not familiar with how sewing machines work, your machine will not form stitches if your fabric isn’t held taunt. Your pressure foot usually provides that stability. Without it, something else has to hold your fabric tight. Hense, the hoop. This video does a nice job of explaining how a stitch forms.
So I have to figure out the hoop thing.
On another front, my new crashed Bernina 930 is in pieces soaking in machine oil. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.
Stitched down with water elementals
I’m struggling with finding ways to utilize the Singer 20U. I added in my cliffs, direct applique with the 20U, using that stack of hoops. It’s a less elegant stitch line, but it worked.
Next steps: stipple in, add water splashes, back, quilt and bind.
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.
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.
