A Year of Quilts

December 26, 2021January 9, 2022 | ellenanneeddy

Since Don gave me my studio, I’m there pretty much every day. This year, I had my last knee surgery in mid February and was back in the studio in April.

Working in a studio is sort of like gardening. You start something. Sometimes it simply grows on it’s own. Sometimes it grows in the dark. Sometimes you struggle with it. Sometimes it almost does itself.

But it’s a process. The art is a by product of learning and growth for every artist. The business of an artist is building their ability. The art happens by the way.

But this has been a good year, for a year when a fourth of it was spent recovering. I made over 50 quilts this year. I welcomed a new sewing machine. I learned some new tech. And I got to watch many of you stretch in your arts and lives as well. I am so grateful.

These aren’t all this year’s quilts. But here’s the highlights.

Whether I count it in work, learning, or new tools, it’s been a year I’m grateful for.

And I’m very grateful to Don, who is at the studio every day with me, ready when I need something lifted, or photoed, or looked at. He is the heart of my studio and I would be lost without him. He’s my heart too.

I hope this year brought you new tools. A new passion. Some time to make it happen. People who help you. And the grace to work with it, to work it out. Because if we don’t engage with our art, like a love, like a child like a pet, you can lose it.

Thank you all for the support you’ve given me. I hope I’ve supported you. We are all artists together, on our paths.

Building a Path: Creating Movement in Art

December 19, 2021December 19, 2021 | ellenanneeddy

Two dimensional art is by nature static. It’s a flat image on a wall. So how do we make the image move? How do we make a two dimensional thing take flight?

There are several good tricks. Movement can be crafted in several small design decisions that convince our eye that the picture is in movement. This quilt I’ve been working on has a number of these features.

I was delighted when I saw a picture of a caterpillar perched on a fiddle head fern. I imagined a mob of caterpillars on the move, looking for lunch.

I started this quilt with some good movement in the fern heads themselves.

The Stems thrust upwards and the curved fern heads move at a spiral angle. Anything headed at an angle as if it’s falling is already in motion.

I embroidered a number of caterpillars so I’d have some choices in color and shapes

I placed them several times, looking for the right flow.

This is the one I liked best. I went off the edge with my butterflies.

I like the flow, but it also works because of the interactions of the caterpillars. The angles of the bugs also suggest movement.

Finally I supplied lunch. It doesn’t really add that much to the movement, but the leaves with bites out of them makes me smile.

So to add movement to your art:

Put things at an angle

Go off the edge

Place elements where they interact together.

Put things into a path through the quilt.

The purpose of that movement is to send the eye through the journey of the visual path, to experience each part of the quilt through movement across it.

Made by Accident: An Approach to Organic Design

December 12, 2021January 9, 2022 | ellenanneeddy

Some people spend a lot of time designing their art. They sketch. They plan. They build models. I’m so impressed. They can even tell you what it means.

I wish I could do that. I just can’t. It seems all of my art comes from random things, started but not finished, that I found later and made or put more random things on them. It sounds like a dreadfully chaotic way to make art. It is. It’s hellish for commissions. But it’s how I am. And if you want me to tell you what it’s about, you’ll need to wait several years until I get that straightened out. I am not in control of my art. All I can do is attend to it regularly, and do what it demands.

What is central to the process is the time stuff sticks around, on a photo wall before I commit to the next step. Is it right? Does it need to move three inches left? I’ve ruined many pieces by bulling through and finishing them without taking time to really look at them first.

I’m not helpless about this. And I’m not unskilled. It’s just the way it is. I suspect I’m not alone.

Art is a living thing, and a piece of art will tell you what it wants. And in the end, you didn’t so much make it as assist in it’s birth.

I laid out the background for this almost a year ago. Decided it needed white flowers on a pond edge. Didn’t know what else it needed. Lost it. Found it again. Lost it once more and then it resurfaced in the last cleaning. Somewhere in there I’d drawn a swimming frog in a batch of frogs. He didn’t get embroidered with the other batch, and I found him and thought, I really ought to finish him but I didn’t have a place to put him.

Then the piece of fabric surfaced. So I embroidered the frog, put in some water and rocks and a moon. Looked at it a while. HATED the moon. That almost never happens. But it just didn’t work.

When I was embroidering a batch of bugs and did three luna moths. One left over one just fluttered on to my quilt where the unfortunate moon was. White flowers and more water later it was done.

Did it take me two weeks? Or the two years to have the pieces fall together? Even I don’t know. I do know that fallow part of the process where you just stare at it, or lose it, or find it in a pile is an important part of the process, not to be missed or dissed.

I don’t know how to teach this kind of design. I can only show it in process. But I believe in it. I believe art grows like life, randomly, without sense, half by purpose but largely by accident, as it is. I can only stand back and watch.

Ornaments and Ornamentation: Core Free motion Stitchery

December 5, 2021January 23, 2022 | ellenanneeddy

Of all the techniques I do as an artist, nothing is harder than embroidered appliques. They’re images made completely from thread and zigzag stitch. They take more time and can distort easily. But there are times I insist on making them. Why? Because they’re amazing. They’re made from layer after layer of thread. The eye blends the colors into a whole, but since they are separately stitched, they retain their bright, clear colors.

They are the core of my art. My strongest clearest images, imagined in thread.

I’d started a bunch of bugs for this quilt. Of course I overdid. Actually, I meant to.

I’m pretty protective of these embroideries. They are the most ornamental part of my work and the most time intensive part of it. I always use the left overs on something else. But they are so usable. I’ve put them on denim jackets, and an ordinary jacket becomes an art statement. I once made elephant heads for the bottom of a gown someone wore for an award ceremony. They get around. They make ordinary things, extraordinary.

Last year I put some of these embroideries up separately on Etsy. They were so popular that I thought I’d offer them this year. You can order them either just as an applique, or as a pin or an ornament.