Deciding Rather than Designing: Starting from Scratch

| ellenanneeddy

I wish I were someone who could take a design and execute it. I can try. It’s a case of man proposing, and God laughing. Instead, a series of decisions are to be made at each point. Each decision points to the next.

One of the most useful things I do in a class is to start a piece from scratch. It’s not like there is a direct list of what you do next. But there are some decisions to be made. It helps to have a plan.

Here is the list of things I need to decide for each piece.

  • Background-The hand dye creates the light and the atmosphere for the piece. It usually is the first choice. Does it have a sunspot? A pool? A field of flowers within it? It dictates almost everything, especially the lighting in a piece.
  • Major Images-These are the main focus. I draw them in Totally Stable, backwards. They iron on to the back of the piece and remain inside the piece as a pattern.
  • Atmospherics-Water, light, smoke clouds, and sometimes leaves and flowers are atmospherics. They are usually made of commercial sheers, handpainted lace, and dyed cheesecloth. They make a translucent presence in the piece.
  • Details/pathway-These are smaller embroideries, or stones, or leaves that can be used to create a visual pathway through the surface.
  • Texturizing the surface/stippling- after all that embroidery, the rest of the piece needs to be integrated. The stippling over the surface can pulls the piece together.

There are no right or wrong answers. There are simply decisions. Each defines the piece. What I choose not to do also shapes the definition. I’m OK with that. I’ve learned that each decision I reject can be featured in the next piece. Or the one after that. I’m not making one perfect piece of art. I’m creating a body of art that explores the limits and range of my techniques and my skills.

This piece, like most of them, started with a piece of fabric and the idea of herons. I dye a number of pieces of fabric as cenotes, wells of color. Some times the cenotes make a light source, but this piece made a wonderful pond.

The birds started as whistling herons. But at a certain point, they were indistinguishable from the Louisiana Blues. So I did them as blue herons. It’s important to finish the major embroideries first because they shrink. You don’t know how they’ll fit in until they’re embroidered and cut out.

The atmospherics for this piece are water and grass. The grass is an oil paint stick rubbing of a ceiling tile. The water is accentuated with c-shapes of hand painted and commercial lace. Then I put in rocks to anchor the pond and direct the eye.

I decided on damsel flies and grasshoppers, as pathway elements. They did not work the way I had hoped. The damsel flies fit in, but I’m not sure of the grasshoppers. I’ll have to finish them to be sure.

Finally, I wanted seedlings growing up through the water. I made big beautiful bold seedlings the size of God’s underpants. Again, not the best choice. I scaled that down and it was much more effective, although I might want bigger ones at the bottom.

This piece is pinned in position. I’ll be stitching soon. But most of the decisions are made, step by step, before it’s stitched down.

Backtracking: Going back to Old Tech

| ellenanneeddy

I’m always looking for a better way to do something. Easier. More visible. More user-friendly. Tech changes as we go along, partially because we get smarter about what we do, partially because we learn from others, and partially because the materials, thread, and stabilizers change and we change with them.

If change isn’t a four-letter word, it should be. It’s not easy or fun to develop new ways to do things. But if we are going forward on an artistic path, it’s inevitable.

Except when it’s not.

I developed using free-motion embroidered appliques as an anti-pucker technique. First I did it only with quite large objects. Over the last couple of years that has developed into what I call component quilting, where almost all of my images are done separately on a sandwich of hand-dye, felt and Stitch nTear, and then cut out. I apply them to the quilt surface only when they are completely embroidered.

What does that do technically?

  • It diminishes the puckering around heavy embroidery by cutting it away
  • It creates a strong visual image that pops off the quilt surface.
  • It creates a larger outline than you might want for a smaller image.
  • It allows you to use a zigzag stitch for quicker coloring.

What did I use to do? I stitched my images directly into the quilt sandwich. It was where I started as a quilter. First I used to stitch images into the quilting. Then I began to stitch with specialty thread so those images would show up better. It was at least 15 years before I began to stitch the images separately.

What does that do?

  • It requires either straight stitch or very narrow zigzag because of the puckering
  • It allowes the background to show throught the embroidery, so that it blends in more.
  • It can be seen on the back (which is really cool if you embroider directly into the quilt sandwich
  • It puckers up anyway, but less than it would with zigzag

I’ve pretty much stopped using direct image stitching. This time I went back to it strictly for the aesthetics. I wanted fish that did not stand out as much as the frog. Doing component embroidery on the frog and direct embroidery on the fish makes them different in appearance and creates a visual sort where your eye lets you know they are different. I wanted the frog half out of the water and the fish firmly in the water.The fish were outlined in a narrow black zigzag, and then stitched straight stitch from the back with metallic thread in the bobbin.

Did it work that way? I’m still figuring that out. The fish are quieter than the frog and seem part of the water. I’m not sure how I feel about the look.

I do know that I can’tafford to throw away technique. Some things just work differently. Having those options is holy.

Frog River is now available for sale at my Etsy Shop.

Etsy

Does it Have to be Yellow?

| ellenanneeddy

I started a new quilt this week. like most quilts, it started with an incredible piece of fabric.

It’s been a while since I’ve dyed, so I’m down to the most fabulous, I’m scared to use it wrong fabric, and the stuff I really don’t care about.

This piece took time to figure out because it’s only a half yard. Sometimes that’s plenty of space. Sometimes it’s not.

but it made such a good pond. All that yummy blue purple against yellow.

I wanted herons, and I found a sketch of herons I used for my information.

Unfortunately, when I looked up the specifics, it was a whistling heron.

In case that sounds unfamiliar to you, you’re not alone. A whistling heron is from eastern Asia.

Is it different especially from other herons? Not so much. Heron head, heron wings, heron feathers. But yellow. The body is yellow.

I think you can see my problem. A yellow heron is going to show up on this like a yetti in a snow storm.

OK. How real do I have to be? What do I want to accomplish with this piece? Am I copying life precisely? Am I playing with interesting shapes or colors? How tied am I to “The Real Thing.”

Henry James wrote a story called “The Real Thing.” It was about an artist who had a reduced gentleman and lady offer themselves as models to him. That had to be a pretty harsh come down in the world for them.

They said they were the real thing, but in truth, they were only that one real thing. He found the girl who could be a gypsy, madonna, dance, lady and probably was a lady of the night, a much better model because she could be anything with his imagination.

Modern art launched right around the beginnings of photography. There’s a reason for that. Up until then, the goal was to come closer and closer to real. Suddenly, you could have a completely real image at the click of a button. An artist can’t really compete with that. So different things have to happen.

So where do we go if we’re not more and more “real?” We start exploring, shape, light, color and texture. We start to think what if. We start to let the art define itself. We find it defines us in the process. That’s a whole lot more scary than real.

But worth it.

I decided these herons could just be herons. And little blue herons are the perfect color behind all that lovely lemon yellow.

So these birds can be blue and shine in their yellow, not so realistic but perhaps symbolic, world. That there are pools of water, even in strict drought. That we find them even under extreme conditions and can thrive past the hardships. That we are not completely defined by other people’s real.

You’ll find a free copy of Henry James story, The Real Thing, here if you want to read it. It’s an interesting thing for artists to think about. Why are we painting, sewing, drawing, and create? What do we build in doing that? What reality do we create? Because as artists, that’s our job.

The Next Generation: Teaching at the Map Program at the Pe0ria art Guild

| ellenanneeddy

I don’t have much work to show you this week because I was preparing to teach yesterday at the Peoria Art Guild. The Peoria Art Guild is one of the most supportive art centers I’ve ever seen. Not just for these kids but for established artists like myself, and emerging artists first bringing their work to the public, and for people who just enjoy being part of an art community it’s a astonishing place. It’s become my art home. I am so grateful.

So when the Peoria Art Guild asked me to teach for their MAP program I was excited. I had no idea how great these kids are. I’ve done it for three years now.

These pieces are in process.

The Map program is a Mentor Artist Program for seniors and juniors where established artists come in and mentor them.

What are these kids like? They are amazing! Talented, unafraid and energized. I was awed today.

I love teaching. I love the connection, watching their pieces come together, watching them build skills and confidence and find their own art. That has been a privilege.

I teach because I believe that art matters. It’s not about a process or a skill, or what you make. It’s about the ability to work with your heart and your soul to express yourself. It’s emotional literacy. The one thing unique thing each of us has is our vision. When we can share that, the world is a little wider, the bridges a little stronger, the light a bit more illuminating. The darkness stands back. We make art to shift and change the world.

What do we give to other artists? Our techniques. Our inspiration. Our studio workflow. Our vision. Our joy in creation. Our appreciation of their path, as we travel our own.

Would these kids make art any way? I don’t think anything would stop them. But giving them a broad base of skills and experience with different materials means they can better find their way. The MAP program is a fabulous opportunity for them.

The Peoria Art Guild brings this to these kids each year. I saw them grow ten feet tall in one day. It;’s a magnificent experience. For myself as well as for them.

If you have a kid in the Peoria area, Senior or Junior next year, who lives for art, consider this Map program for them. It’s free. You’ll find information on the Peoria Art Guild Site.

And IF you need a breath of art yourself, the Peoria Art Guild is there for you.

Peoria Art Guild

203 Harrison St,

Peoria, IL, 61602,

 3096372787 info@peoriaartguild.org

I

A River Runs Through it: Creating Stunning River background with Oil Paint Sticks

| ellenanneeddy

You know I go crazy over oil paint stick rubbing. My first tries with rubbings were not successful. But at this point, I use them regularly to texturize backgrounds. Mostly I use commercial rubbing plates. They’re pretty and flexible. But they’re not very big. The technique lends itself to smaller pieces. They’re fun. But covering a half yard of fabric with a 6″ square design takes forever

This was a leftover piece for it. I love it but it’s just too small. And I wanted a piece that would give me perspective on the river I wanted to build for my frog river.

I love this background. I found I had a leftover frog and dragonfly, and they suited each other quite well. But the fabric didn’t feel enough like a river. It needed water and rocks.

. Unfortunately, I haven’t found any rock rubbing plates.That just meant I wasn’t looking in the right place. Lowes has some rock backsplash tile I’d purchased. I love the texture.

Here’s the extra rock tiles I found. They are backsplash tiles from Lowes. They are on a thread mesh, but they are real rocks.

Rivers are often defined by the pebbles at the bottom. So I decided to build my river with some rock rubbings.

So I went back to Lowes. In the backsplash section, I found a collection of rock tiles in different sizes.

I also picked some rubbing plates that make good river foliage.

I drew some chalk lines to show me where to put the river. Then I began with the smallest rock tile

I went to the larger rocks landing at the bottom. Then I rubbed blue and purple ripples through the river area.

This is subtle. But I do like it. Here the frog and the dragonfly fit into the river and sky. I’m planning on minnows and cat tails along the edges.

I finished off the composition with water patterns over the rocks. Then I added a layer of blue and green sheers for that wet look. I can hear the water running

What’s the take away? I can build depth into my piece by making a path that starts near me and gets smaller as it retreats. I also can find stones and tiles that pass as rubbing stones at any good hardware store. And I can make a river out of a paint stick, a backsplash of rocks, and a water rubbing plate on top of them. That’s a lot to ask of a piece of fabric and some paint. But we all know that oil paint stick-rubbed fabric is a magic of its own.

Check out this earlier blog on working with oil paint sticks if you’d like a tutorial on using paint sticks.

Machine Hell: How Commercial Do You Need to Be? In Search of a Tough Enough machine

The Broke Down Bench
| ellenanneeddy

What do you do when your techniques are killing your machines?

This is about component embroidery. Lately, I’ve leaned more and more on component embroidery to create large astonishing embroidered images. I love the work it creates. I am completely reliant on my machines.

I have a love/hate relationship with most of my sewing machines. I really love them when they work. I’m in abject hell when they break down.

Since I’m a Bernina girl from way back, I’m used to tough well-built machines. Yesterday, my ancient 930 had a moment. I thought it was a screwdriver fix; It was not. We’re playing mix and match between the two 930s in the studio. Neither is quite ready for prime time. It has brought to mind how intensive my work is.

The Broke Down Bench

That was underlined by the 3 220s I managed to break last year, and my 770 which has spent 7 months out of the last year in need of several kind of repairs. And is once again in the shop.

These are lovely machines. They’re built tough, and I’m still having them break under me like I was shooting horses I’m riding on in a battle. I’m devastated. I know better than to have only one functional machine. Because always, inevitably, something will break.

When I talked with my mechanic she said “You do know you sew more than other people..” Which means I stitch very heavily to make my images. Meaning perhaps I’m asking more out of a machine than it’s built for.

Which leads to the question, do I need a different machine? Do I need a commercial machine?

I went through this several years ago when I bought my 770 Bernina. It’s fast. It’s got that nice long arm and some lovely features. It does not put up with mad-speed sewing. I love it. I’m afraid of it too. It threw its hook at me through the door on the bobbin mechanism. I wish I were kidding. And I don’t know what to do about a machine that’s off more than it’s on.

So here’s my 2025 Challenge.

Do I change my work because my machine won’t do it? Do I find another way? Do I look for other tools? Or do I back away from a stunning technique that lets me do things past my earlier abilities?

Which leads me to humming something like a Sheryl Crow song. “Are you tough enough to be my sewing machine?”

Being an artist is only peripherally about making art. It’s mostly about developing skills, ideas and visions. The art is a byproduct. It is a picture of where your art is at a particular moment. This is why I can always let go of a piece of art if it raises my abilities as an artist. Any artist’s first creation is the skills, techniques, and vision you make art from.

I’m looking. I need a zigzag machine that is commercial grade I can control the speed on. And I need to find some money to look with. I’m always willing to give up a piece of art to further what I can do as an artist.

Those of us who live an artist’s life live with constantly unbalanced finances. Don and I are on social security. I don’t discuss my difficulties hoping for a handout. But I have used my art to fund things I couldn’t buy any other way. I’ve offered work of mine at dead rock bottom prices, when the need arises. I’ve never asked for money itself. I’ve offered the work I have to make what I need happen. I’m doing that now.

These pieces represent work I couldn’t have done ten years ago. They’re made with component quilting elements, separately embroidered and incorporated into the quilt itself. It’s changed what I can do. I need a tough enough machine to do it.

My Etsy Shop

So my quilts are back at 40% discount, on Etsy.

If there’s something you are in love with, this is the time. And I’m open to offers. I am a motivated seller. If you wish to see more information on my body of work, it’s also on my Portfolio Page. The price on the portfolio does not reflect the sale price, but you can click through from the portfolio page to the Etsy shop.

My Portfolio Page

Also, if you have knowledge about industrial or particularly tough zigzag machines, I’d love to talk with you. I need more options, and would appreciate your expertise. And if you have questions about a particular quilt, let me know.

Thank you!

Ellen

THe Point to it All: Abstract Roses

| ellenanneeddy

I love roses. I no longer have them in my garden but they often fill my quilts. I was working on a batch of roses for a quilt that’s out of series of brambles over old walls. The backgrounds are oil paint stick rubbings with blackberries or roses growing over them. It;s based on a memory of a french fairy tale where there was an ornately carved wall with roses growing over it. The movie Ever After (a cinderella retelling) has a scene with a wall like that.

This time I’ve been working with a drawing of a red wing blackbird, but the black was just too boring. So we went blue instead. It worked with the rubbed background.

These roses are abstract. They’re made from spiral cuts of sheer fabrics, intertwined and stitched free motion. I’ve done them before. Abstraction is about taking one or several parts of an image and letting them represent the whole. But stitching the points felt so good. I tried to figure out why. It’s not exactly what a rose looks like, but it has the spiral form of the petals. The spiral reminds us of the structure of roses. Where do the points come in? Some roses have folded petals that look like points.

Abstract work is hard for me. I’m not an accurate person by nature, but it takes me a while to simplify something enough to abstract it. I’ve done it from time to time, but it’s not natural for me. But the point to the roses, was all the points.

I wanted white roses, but you can’t have just white. Without color there are no shadows. I went with a pallet of pale blues, lilac, aqua, cream, grey, and green. The white fabric spirals make the image white and the threads make the shading. As I was working stitching the roses, I noticed I really liked putting points on the edges. It made them much more rose like.

Then it occurred to me. The points were an echo of the thorns of the rose.

When I had my Porter garden, I came to love my roses not only for their scent or their loveliness. Roses are aggressive. They are, as a species, 30 million years old. They are lovely scented thorned privacy. And I thought my birds might need a little privacy.

These arr partially stitched down. I hope to finish them this week.

Here’s the rest of that series. I love the idea of walls covered with rose vines.

A Very Buggy New Year: Streamlining Quilting with Component Techniques

| ellenanneeddy

Component quilting lets me streamline my quilting. I have two quilts I’m working on that will need some bugs. Why?

Both of these pieces are going to need some help building a pathway. Bugs are a great way to do that. They flitter across the surface and they create movement. But these need a significant number of bugs. It’s just easier to make a batch. I think ended up making 35 in all.

I did damsel flies, moths, and small white butterflies for the frog/turtle quilt.

For the bluebird quilt, I wanted larger white butterflies.

This batch of bugs was a color lesson for me. Normally I ignore gold and silver thread. When there’s purple and green metallic thread, why would I use gold or silver.

All of the bug bodies are from Madeira FS2/20 thread. The black core thread really looks like beading up close.

I tried the opalescent white as a butterfly wing. I was underwhelmed. I really don’t like the pink quality.

I needed the white that silver brings. I tried going over it with silver afterwards. It was not improved.

Opalescent white under silver does a nice bright white. For those birds, nothing else will do.

I wanted a softer quality for the moths and the swamp. So they were done from polyester threads.

For the damselle flies I needed a solid carapace and see-through wings. The iridescent thread did the wings nicely, even with the pink cast.

Different threads offer really big differences in the result. In this case, it keeps the bugs separate from each other and from the other elements in the quilt.

Size is a limit with component quilting. Things under an inch and a half are hard to keep crisp and have too heavy an outline when they’re applied. But for most elements, it allows me to choose where to put what. Choice is good.

The Quinticential Label: What Do You Put on your Quilt

| ellenanneeddy

I’m a big believer in documentation and in keeping track. The last quilt I finished was numbered 1,162 since I started counting my quilts forty years ago. I figure there were about 100 before I started counting.

So I was pretty shocked when I found I had 12 unlabeled quilts from this year and it got me to think about labels.

At one point I embroidered labels with a pfaff.

Years ago, I had a gallery person remove labels from quilts of mine, because she wanted to be the only port of contact for people to reach me. That was before we all knew how easy it is to find anyone on the internet. Some of those quilts were stolen later before I replaced the labels. I have forgotten her name and her gallery. I’ve never forgotten what she did. She didn’t mean harm, but there are always unintentional consequences. There is no way I will ever see those quilts again.

I now make labels that are glued and stitched into the back of my quilt. You cannot remove them without permanently obviously damaging the quilt. Once I found this method, I never looked back.

Recently I found a method that makes fabulous labels I can personalize exactly to my needs. Avery labels used to have computer programs for you to use to print labels. I haven’t seen those in years, but they do have a service online where you can design labels either in batches or one by one. Printavery.com has a full-service label printing program. I use the 5264 6 label sheets for large quilts. They are 3.3″ x 4″. You can put both text and pictures on the label. I also use the 5263 10 labels sheets for smaller quilts. Those are 2″ x 4″.

The labels are all well and good, but a paper label is longterm useless. So instead I print my labels on June Tailor Quick Fuse Fabric Sheets for Ink Jet Printers. These sheets are a regular size 8.5″ x 11″ piece of fabric with fusible on the back. You can print them and cut them into whatever label sizes you want. They fuse beautifully with a hot iron.

So what do you need on a label? Your name and the quilt’s name are kind of the basics. Then it’s a matter of intent. The quilt for your beloved child, or someone laid up in a wheel chair is personal. I’d whatever you feel the need to say. Uncle Bob, Christmas 2024, made with love. For your new baby Beth from Granny. Whatever.

Commercial needs are different. What I want out of a quilt label is to identify the quilt, and make it possible for someone to reach me if they need to. I also want a label they can’t pry off with a crow bar.

I’m working with a large body of quilts still in house, so I need an inventory number of some kind. That number is the next number on the list plus the year it was created. So number 1162-24 is the 1,162nd quilt I made, finished in 2024. Hopefully, I won’t screw up and put down the wrong number. It has happened before. But remember, I also have the name of the quilt on the label.

I use my studio name, Thread Magic Studio, because it too is an identifier. If they type that in on line, they’ll be able to reach a current address and phone number for me.

I used to pick on picture for the year for all the quilts. Now I put the picture of that quilt on instead. It’s an instant identifier.

I’ve debated the next part for a while. Currently, I have my shipping address and phone number. But things change. If I’m sending out an older quilt that might have old information, I check and replace the label. If I’m sending out a large quilt to an owner, I ask them if they would prefer a label with their contact information on it.

Should I add a website and an email? It’s not a bad idea, but there’s only so much space. I can’t personally read anything in size 9 type. I think internet information is more likely to change than physical addresses.

So this is what label sheet looks like. I’ll cut it apart with a rotary cutter and round off the edges.

Some Tips

  • There is sew-in label fabric available which I do not like nearly as much. The fabric isn’t as nice and it doesn’t fuse. The packages all look much the same so check.
  • This does require an ink jet printer. Don lothes them, but a laser printer will fuse the fabric to your printer. Very unhappy.
  • You probably want to feed these sheets one at a time through the printer. They do jam sometimes.
  • You can print anything you would on regular paper. But keep in mind what it looks like. The preview section on the program will you check.
  • Clean your iron first. Or use a pressing cloth. The iron fabric tends to smear easily.

Is it worth the time? I find it so. I can’t keep track otherwise. But any quilt you make deserves to recognize you as the artist, and the information to find it’s way home.