We’ve been talking about the variability of the zigzag stitch in free motion. Most of the time, I’m filling in a space where I want a line of color to show up. This is a trick that will give me a soft blend of color across the image without a hard line. I’ve heard it called the long stitch, although the old-fashioned description you hear with free motioners is the long short stitch. As with all free-motion zigzag stitching, the difference isn’t a setting on the machine. It’s how you move your fabric through the machine as you’re stitching.
Most of the time when I’m filling a space, I stitch a zigzag line at an angle around the edge, I shade the piece by stitching from side to side, and then I smooth the edges with a zigzag that moves straight through.
But when you just move from side to side you get a long blending stitch that flows into itself. The breast of the bird is done from side to side. The feathers are done with an outline, shading, and smoothing. You can see the difference.
After having worked for some while on Octopi Dance, I decided I needed jellyfish to add to the flow of the piece. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know I’m obsessed with creating a visual path through each quilt as a significant design feature. That can be done a number of ways, either through the background, the flora around your subjects, or with smaller objects that the eye follows across the piece.
For the octopi, jellyfish were a simple choice. They float and can be pointed in any direction. And the purple, green, and iridescent qualities are perfect against all that hot yellow.
What I really wanted after all that very solid garnet stitching was something translucent. I can do that fairly with organza and lace. But if I glue organza to the background, the background becomes a major part of the jellyfish. Some of the transparency is lost.
So I decided to make jellyfish with only the organza on the back. There are several ways to do that. One is to use a dissolvable stabilizer.
Dissolvable stabilizer is usually made from some kind of starch. There are a lot of brands but there are really only two types. One is see-through, and one looks like paper. They both dissolve in water. The see-through variety is usually a topping, put over your piece so you can embroider details without having your foot caught in the textures. It can also be worked in a hoop. If you want more information about dissolvable stabilizers, Embroidery Online has a wonderful article about them here.
The paper varieties don’t dissolve quite as well, but they make a better stabilizer for embroidery. Since I didn’t want to fuss with a hoop this time, I used a paper dissolvable called Paper Solvy, available at Amazon. It comes in a pack of 8.5″ x 11″ sheets.
It’s hard to make a stable embroidery just out of thread. You have to be sure you’ve connected all of it to itself, or it will fall apart when you remove the stabilizer. So I glued the organza onto the stabilizer with Steam a Seam 2, partially for color and partially to make the pieces more stable.
You can’t stitch as closely with this stabilizer. It will either tear or jam or both. I also ran a straight stitch around the outside of the pieces and then stitched my zigzag stitch over it. That holds the piece together better after the stabilizer is removed.
There are some good and bad things about this stabilizer It did dissolve quite well. It stitched fairly well, although I had a lot more thread breakage. And one was not enough.
I tried one set with a sheet of Tear Away behind the Solvy, and had to tear away that background. Not recommended. It took forever and it tended to tear away the stitches as well.
I’m quite happy with the ones I did on two layers of Paper Solvy. They dissolved well and the stitching stayed mostly in place. They can join in the dance,
For more information on the visual path check out Building a Path.
Last week’s octopi are growing. And the stitch to use for anything as lumpy and bumpy as an octopus is the garnet stitch. The fun thing is how many variations there are.
Reviewing Garnet Stitch
Garnet stitch is not a stitch on your machine. It’s working free-motion and moving your hands in circles. You can make all kinds of circles or half circles to different affect. It works either straight stitch or zigzag. It sounds simple.
It’s defined by how fast you move your hands, how large your circles are, and whether you let them overlap or not. The range of effects you can get is stunning. Visually it stands out like nothing else.
zoning
The first thing you do with a project such as this is zone it. Usually, I zone for color. With this project, I’ve zoned for texture as well. For working purposes, I marked the tentacles dark and light, since that was a major concern. Light tentacles are sucker side up. The suckers are different from the main surface, which is different from the eyes, and also different from the skin between the suckers and the main surface. The colors slide through a range between a bottle green and bright yellow, with blue and purple streaks. Nothing subtle here. But zoning my drawing helps me to know where my colors and textures need to be.
The suckers are a bull’s eye garnet stitch: dense stitching in a complete circle with no overlap, There’s a small rim garnet stitch in purple to punch out the suckers.
The general skin is an overlapping loose zigzag with layers of color on it. I’ve topped it off with a seed stitch to make it truly lumpy.
There’s a ridge over the edge where the suckers meet the main skin. I put a red violet edge of garnet stitch overlapping on one side to build the ruffle on.
The suckers seen from the side and the ruffle are pure zigzag stitching.
Finally, I stitched a large seed stitch across the skin to get that lumpy bumpy look.
Octopi are made for garnet stitch! Next week, jellyfish.
I get caught in themes. I get excited by birds or fish or bugs, which I do for a while. That’s fun, and it lets me explore different stitchery. But every so often, something new lures me elsewhere.
I’ve been mesmerized by octopui lately. About their wonderful movements and their textures. I’ve been reading a book called Remarkably Bright Creatures, by Shelby Van Pelt. It’s a delightful tale largely of an octopus and a cleaning lady.
I’ve lived almost all of my life with my creatures as my closest companions. Can an octopus and a 70-year-old lady be friends? I’m jealous. I’d love an octopus as a friend.
And Matisse. How do octopi and Matisse mix together?
Matisse did a lot of work that centered on movent and patterns. I deeply love his paintings for their rhythms and movements. Can you see how this starts to mix together? The alien grace of an octopus reminds me of these ladies in their dance.
I’ve always loved these dancers. Now imagine them as octopi. I know. It’s kind of an art joke. But I’ve been wanting to do this for months.
These are the octopus I have planned for the quilt. I think they should all join tentacles and dance. Again, it’s about movement together.
Both the quilt and the painting are about fluid motion, the dance between us as a group. So that must be what I’m working on. I rarely understand a piece until it’s finished, sometimes much after that.
Why do art jokes? Because they make us think differently. And that is largely what art is for. And things need to lighten up a bit right now.
I’ll be showing you more of these octopi as I go along. Next week we’ll talk about garnet stitch zigzag and straight and how to shade with it. Right now I’ve been doing sucker.
Like most little girls, I had a pink bedroom. Unlike most other girls, mine was seafood bisque pink with brown. Needless to say, I’m hesitant about using pink. I certainly don’t wear it..
But in spite of my feelings about pink, I know better than to dismiss a color from the color wheel. They’re all in relationship with each other. It’s like putting up with weird Uncle Fred because you really like his wife Ethel. They are deeply connected and you get the one when you choose the other.
And some things are just unabashedly pink. Like roseated spoonbills. So here we are.
She’s a nesting bird, and I loved her pink and brownish background. You can push past your color preferences when you try,
These flowers were mostly white sheers and lace, stitched over in pinks, cream, and whites. The white glowa behind and the thread gives a pink blush. To my mind, they register as white flowers but the shadows echo the burgundy background. It’s a delicate look.
I haven’t done lady slippers for a while. And I wanted a white creeping vine around the outside. But you can’t make something just white. It has no dimension. So this time I used white sheers to form the flowers, but I pulled in other colors to shade them. Because the background is fuchsia, I went for soft pink shading for the white flowers. For the lady slippers, I went into brighter pinks and burgundies, with the white shining through just a bit.
Now, what makes the color of a flower? Or any other thread work? Is it the thread? Or are there other factors.
No matter how much you stitch over something you always see the background. Always. Usually I am for a background color that accentuates the threadwork.
What happens if it doesn’t blend or match? It glows from beneath. I’ve started with iridescent white organza to create an inner glow for the lady slippers.
I stitched from both sides, leaving just a bit of plain iridescent organza in the center to round out the flower. The iridescent background creates an inner glow and a subtle pink.
Here I chose pink sheers and stitched over them with various pink/apricot threads. The effect is vibrant and full of color.
The background I stitch over is as much a part of the color as the threadwork. The differences are subtle but very cool. The combination of light and color creates dimensional blooms that glow.
I almost never do bed quilts. I did them when I was younger and watched them die as I used them. It was too depressing. I occasionally will do a baby quilt or a comfort quilt for someone dealing with illness. Mostly I do art.
And since art doesn’t have to be big, I don’t often make something bed-size to put on the wall. Except when I do,
This heron couldn’t be done smaller. At least I couldn’t do it smaller. He’s 60″ x 52″. He’s pretty much the size of God’s underpants.
There are some strategies for dealing with overlarge quilts. The first three are, don’t. But if you’ve decided it must be large, there are several things you can do that will help.
Strategies for Large Quilts
Break it into components. For myself, that means the embroideries. I do them separately and then apply them when the top is ready. But it might be working in rows or in segments. Different quilts will suggest different approaches.
Use larger details. Scaling up the design means there’s less work in it. Sometimes extensive detail just looks ditsy on a larger piece.
Buy extra sewing machine needles. Larger quilts require more tugging and pulling and that will break needles. Promise.
If you have a machine with a wider arm, this is the moment. The arm of your machine is the space between the needle and the mechanical right end. A lot of manufacturers make machines with a longer arm. That’s extra room to shove the quilt through the machine. It can be very helpful.
Use a design wall where you can walk away and really see your design. A design wall should be big enough to accommodate your work and in a big enough space where you can walk away and really look at it. For more information about making and using a design wall, here’s a blog post on it: Studio Essentials: The Glories of the Design Wall.
The other helper is what we used to call bicycle clamps. Roll your quilt, clamp them with these clamps and then you can maneuver it easier.
I don’t do large quilts often. But they do really make a punchline in a gallery show. So this heron is promised to a show at the Peoria Art Guild in September. We should have him crowing by then.
Today I needed a color break. I’ve been frantically finishing the Stitch Vocabulary Book for three weeks, and I was terribly tired of computer work. So I sorted out the fabric I intend to bring to sale at Gems of the Prairie in May, That meant I set aside the pieces I wanted to work up.
Of course, that was an immense pile, Somewhere in it, I found this owl.
He really wasn’t lost. I knew he was around. I just wasn’t sure what pile. He was the third of three owls I made for a quilt that simply never worked.
I found several pieces that I thought would be amazing backgrounds. But a very strange thing happened. It wasn’t just that the fabric made the owl feel different. They actually started telling really different stories about him.
So this had a golden open door he’s going through.
Investigating a flower in the garden. Perhaps with small mice or butterflies.
Flying toward a red moon. Or is it a rose?
Is that a fire or a sunset? Is he flying towards it or in flight away from it?
Or somehow a moonlit winter night. Perhaps with snow. Or a flowering tree with moths?
I’m always astonished by hand-dyed fabric. It’s so versatile and offers so much to design. But I hadn’t seen it as a backdrop to a story. And that’s exactly what it did.
Which will I choose? I’m not sure yet. Normally I’m drawn to color. But there’s something fabulous about that winter moon. And while I work on it, perhaps it will tell me its story.
I’ve been rethinking how I usually make my dragonflies for my quilt Great Blue. I picked up some new research books and I was struck how very transparent and translucent their wings were. How could I do that?
Dissolvable stabilizer really is transparent and has that look. But it’s made to dissolve if it gets wet. I can’t promise that won’t ever happen. Humidity itself might dissolve the stabilizer.
I’m pretty sure Saran Wrap would tear. Sure enough not to try it.
I I have used organza or lace. It’s a neat look and I like it. But I wanted a more integrated stitched effect. I wanted them to appear to be see-through.
So I thought about it in terms of thread choices. I love Madeira Supertwist. It’s my go-to metallic thread. There are several color ranges. One range is of solid metallic colors. But one of the color ranges is opalescent and crystal. It’s translucent in itself. So I used it in the transparent part of the wings, and the metallic parts in the exoskeleton of the dragonflies.
It doesn’t look transparent exactly. It looks reflective, like glass or water. Not quite what I had in mind, but I think it does the job.
Here’s the difference. This bug is out of solid metallic thread. It makes a bolder statement, more like an exoskeleton than like see-through wings.
All stitchery is a gigo proposition. Good things in, Good things out. When you use excellent threads and get excellent although sometimes unexpected results. I’m going to try these crystalline threads in other ways where I want a translucent look.
