garden

Romantic Roses: Valentine’s Day for the Somewhat Grown Up

| ellenanneeddy

Do you remember Valentine’s Day as a kid?

I loved it. My mother made me a red and white dress for the day, and you brought valentines for everyone, and then you filled their mail box with them and found your own filled.

I was not much of a social butterfly. And I’m not sure I would have gotten any valentines if everyone didn’t send them to everyone.

But most of all, I loved all that color in the middle of the snow. Red, pink, and orange warm my heart whatever the temperature. Add a dash of purple. I could get drunk on it.

Valentine’s day is sort of a bust for a number of reasons around here. Mostly, Don doesn’t do holidays. And if either of us really wants something, we just go buy it. But I still get off on the colors.

Don takes me for a color bath every fall. He drives me around the stately homes of Galesburg and I gasp at the amazing leaves. This time, I happened to look down at the red roses beneath the trees. Absolutely breathtaking. Red, orange, pink. I might as well be drunk. So I started with a batch of red roses. I’d been wanting to do a garden quilt.

I have several ways I make roses, but my favorite is with spirals.

After cutting spirals, I glue them to felt. The felt is red because the color will show through. That’s a promise.

Once they’re all stitched, you can see the form better from the back.

Here’s how they look cut out.

I intend a sunflower and some hollyhock for this quilt as well. Yellow birds as an accent.

This is just pinned up and the leaves for the roses and the hollyhocks aren’t finished yet. But I’m excited. With all those fall leaves falling, we’ll need a garden in bloom. It’s just like Valentine’s day.

How Many Yellow birds Do You Need? Mathematics for Batch Quilting

| ellenanneeddy

If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you know that I’m into batch quilting. I do almost all of my embroideries as separate components which I apply to the quilt top. That gives me the freedom to design more organically and to change plans on a dime.

It also has its limits. I draw things for my embroideries. That doesn’t always mean they fit into the design at the end. Not to worry. There’s always another quilt, and there’s always a need for more bugs, birds, flowers, frogs, and anything else I end up batching.

Small batch elements are excellent for creating a visual path within the piece. They server as stepping stones between larger elements that help carry the eye through the piece. They need to be relatively small and bright to do that.

Bright is a flexible definition. In a blue stream, small copper-brown rocks are bright. A piece of lime yarn on a blue-green background is bright. It’s a matter of contrast. For the last three quilts, I’ve been fixated on small yellow birds. First I did ones in flight and then ones perched.

How many do I need? I ended up stitching another batch when I discovered the ones with blue tail feathers disappeared on the sunflower background. It turned into a pile.

But that’s good. I got the major elements settled on the piece and put the yellow birds in place to generate movement.

It can be bold or subtle. Simply aiming the birds so they’re interacting with each other or with the ladybugs I sprinkled in, creates a line of action within the work.

So how many do I need? I really don’t want to get half through the design and find I need to embroider another batch of birds. How many can I make before I’m bored? The only limit is my attention span.

I’ve finally figured out that it’s worth my trouble to trace out my patterns so I have them left over. I also flip them so I have them in two directions. I probably won’t use the same bird in the same quilt, but often they do look very different after they’re embroidered. It’s actually pretty much the same amount of time by way of setup to embroider 12 birds as 6. The stitching is its own time, but that cuts thread set up dramatically. I spend days doing just mushrooms, or frogs or yellow birds.

It’s changed how I work. It’s changed how I think. And it’s changed my output dramatically.

And then there are all of those wonderful leftovers. You can always use another ladybug or frog. For a small work, it can be the focus itself. There really isn’t any waste. Even if I get tired and stop within the process, I have a nice batch of almost finished bits I can use in the next creation.

How many yellow birds did I make? I believe around 20. I forgot to count. Some of them were orange, so does that count as yellow?

Now. Do I keep the worm?

For more information about batch quilting, see Batch Quilting: How Many Quilts Do You Have Unquilted?

what’s Underneath: How Backgrounds Shade Embroidery

| ellenanneeddy

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.

Over and under: three dimensional leaves

| ellenanneeddy
The leaf is all one piece of fabric. The threadwork defines the fold.

If you’re making nature quilts, you’re likely to need to answer the leaf question. Leaves ripple and rumple and almost never lie flat. And they fold. How do we make that happen on the quilt surface?

Here some approaches.

defined by stitch

I tend to use a free motion zigzag stitch mostly to apply leaves. It’s fluid. It follows curves. And I can change color at will. I also tend to use a polyester Neon embroidery thread by Madeira. It’s strong, bright as a button and light enough to stitch over several times until I get what I want.

Dividing a leaf in half and coloring it with one side dark and the other light creates an immediate sense of dimension for this quilt. It’s the same fabric, but the coloration changes with the thread choices.

defined by applique method

Direct applique is applied right to the top of the piece with glue. I use Steam-A-Seam 2 by preference because it allows me to move the piece around before I iron it into a permanent place.

This makes simple shapes easily. But it doesn’t allow for wild curves and vines

The leaves are drawn on a separate fabric and stitched to the top. Then the access is all trimmed away.

cutaway leaves

Cut-away applique is done with a cloth laid over the top and stitched in the shape you want. Then the leaves, vines and trees can be cut away along the stitch line, leaving more fluid shapes.

Leaves formed by cut-away applique continue the background shading through peek-a-boo holes.

Cheesecloth leaves

The sheer qualities of cheesecloth and the texture mimics the cell structure of the leaves and lets bits of the background through. Cheesecloth makes fabulous leaves and can be dyed any color with Procion dyes. The wild stitching with lime and orange makes them look crinkled.

Making the leaf fold

This cheesecloth leaf folds along the darker blue line of thread. The threadwork itself defines the fold. The purple line on these leaves folds the center and the two slightly different thread colors top and bottom help confirm that.

Mostly leaves are defined by threadwork. These are some ways to make leaves look like they popped out of the background. And that’s pretty much what you want.

Color Theory: The Tug Across the Wheel

| ellenanneeddy

Knowing the definition of a word is a pinpoint on a map. It tells you where you are. It doesn’t tell you how to get where you want to go. It’s the rawest of beginnings.

In the same way, color theory feels like the the dreariest driest subject in the catalog of art education. We look at the wheel and say the canticle, red and blue make purple, red and yellow make orange…. It feels like a recitation from kindergarten. And sadder still, it’s not always true. We’ve all mixed yellow and blue to get the most grizzly browns. It feels like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. A nice story for children.

Part of what we’re missing with that is the reality that it’s a theory. It works, simply when it does work and when it doesn’t, we need to explore why. That’s mostly about imperfect color. Color me surprised. So many things are imperfect in a imperfect world.

But the real question is not where we are on the map but where can we go. What color theory really describes is the relationships between colors. Within the color wheel, the spots within that wheel define the same kinds of relationships between different colors. Those relationships go back to that primary list of monochromatic, complementary, and analogous color themes that seem so very dull. Because they define the tension between colors.

The distance between colors, creates the pull across the wheel. The closer they are to each other, the least pull. The least tension. The least excitement.

The farthest distance any color combination has is directly across from each other, as complements. Those are combinations that tug and pull and electrify us. Colors right on top of each other are smooth and slide into each other.

It’s not one combination. It’s a circle of combinations that create the same feeling. We can move the circle endlessly and get the same energetic result.

Daylily ?Dance

Daylily Dance goes all around the color circle with neutral gray blocks as an inner/outer framework. The relationship of each complementary pair, kicks it over the moon color wise.

How does that change in thread in stead of fabric? Fabric is macro. It’s large strokes of color. Thread gives us micro choices. But the relationships on the color wheel stay stable and chart our color choices. We know from where the colors are on the wheel, how they will make our art feel.