It happened again. I was sewing along, in the groove, grooving it when I turned over my piece and found I had the wrong bobbin in.
Not just the wrong color. Metallic when I had intended my bird to be soft poly feathers.
There are several things to do at this point. Certainly one is to put your head in your hands and wail. I tried that and it didn’t shift anything. I got out my mustache trimmer, and really looked at it.
The thread was the Madiera bug body metallic (black core) that’s purple, red and green. If it sounds odd, it is. There’s nothing else quite like it. All three shades are the exact value, so you can actually shade with it. The red was a little much, but it added an iridescence to the bird I really liked. I stitched more of it in and decided it a happy accident.
with and without metallic
There are other answers. This would have taken a lot of ripping if it was irredeemable. Enter the mustache trimmer. This is a Wahl Half Pint Travel Trimmer, that is the no-tears-lather for removing zigzag stitching. It’s available at Walmart and Amazon.
Here’s how to use it
I chose not to rip this time. But I’m equipped when I need to. As You Sew so Shall You Rip is about evaluating when you really need to rip and when it’s optional.
Years ago I was in an Amish shop, where I made a purchase I really probably only could have made there. I bought 6 yards of black polyester double knit. The poor lady was scandalized. I was dressed in hand dye, obviously not only English but art quilting English. The Amish keep black polyester double knit for men’s suits. Clearly I was not making suits for some nice Amish man.
But it’s the perfect cover for a design board.
I have in the past hung things up on a balcony to the back porch and walked down the alley until I could see it right. That’s a bit hard on a daily basis, and I no longer have a balcony.
Do you need a design board? Yes. Yes you do. You need to really see what you’re piece is doing.
I have a lot of tools in my studio. I love my machines, my irons, my cutting and ironing table. But queen of them all is my design board.
I no longer work in bed quilt sizes. It’s irrelevant to art quilting. But most significant show quilts are largish. Average size for my work is about 36″ x 45″. It’s hard to find a flat surface that size that has nothing on it. Certainly not the floor. Never mind the other things that already on the floor.
The cutting table accommodates that size, but looking at something on a flat surface gives a distorted view. The only way you can really see your quilt is to hang it up.
Different placements for the bird on my photo wall
There’s a rhythm to doing any kind of art, and once you start working makes you want to push through. It feels good to do that. But it’s a trap. If you don’t look at what you’re doing, it’s easy to do something you wish you hadn’t. Does it need to move over an inch? Is the drawing the way I want it? Are the colors working? If you can’t see it, you can’t evaluate what you’ve done. I can’t really see it on the table., either. The perspective is off when you see it lying flat. So up it goes on the wall. It’s worth leaving it there a day or two if you think something’s not right. You can’t see what’s wrong if you don’t look at it.
My wall a sheet of 4″ thick sheet of blue dow insulation snugged up against the longest wall in the sewing room. And it’s covered with that black double knit.
Blue Dow is available at most building stores like Loews and Menards. It comes 4′ by 8′. It is lightweight and you can pin projects up easily. It can be cut to shape with a bread knife.
Any large piece of fabric like a sheet, felt, or double knit can be used for a backdrop. Black, grey or white make good backgrounds. I like double knit because it doesn’t collect lint and the black is a nice dark black.
It’s also my photo wall. Having a photo wall and set up in your studio gives you consistent photos. If you have the same camera, the same lights and the same background, your photos fit better in with each other and are easier to adjust, since you know what to do for them.
I also usually take a picture of the days work as the last thing I do, so I can evaluate my next step. Usually I post it on Facebook if it’s interesting, but at least for myself, I can see what’s going on. And plan what to do next.
Sheers and metallic lace make the water for this fish
I have several kinds of fabric stashes. There is a small but excellent stash of hand dyed cotton and cheesecloth, and the stabilizers I use. They need to be kept separate because I’d never find anything again if they were not. But there is a sparkle stash, the living falling wall of sheers. And then there is the fabric with no name. I don’t know what you call it. It’s out of the drunken prom queen collection. Sheers with velour. Twinkle organza, sparkle tulle, printed lame. It was originally fabrics samples for fancy dresses.
Much of it came from the Textile Fabric Outlet, which still is at 2121 21st Street in Chicago. But I’ve bought pieces anywhere I found them in my travels. I hope and pray I have a lifetime supply. I haven’t been there in a long time, but they assure me they still sell samples and remnants.
The fabric gets put into different drawers, according to it’s purpose. I have a collection of plastic drawers where I keep fabric and thread. They’re plastic, light weight and cheap. No one ever said they were decorative or stable. But they hold quite a lot of clutter. They pop together like pop bead necklaces. They also unpop from time to time.
That’s when the drawers explode.
Last week one of the stack of two fell of it’s own accord where I usually sit in the cutting room. Thankfully I was not there. Drawers everywhere. Fabric everywhere. And of course since I get lazy and don’t exactly put things away, it all looks like crumply, rumply wads of indescribable stuff that is hopefully fabric. Who knows?
That, and my machine being still out to be fixed led to at least three days of intensive ironing and sorting. Yes, I know, iron is a four letter word. But this time it really helped me out.
Anthony Jones, a fellow quilter who’s taught at many conferences with me once pointed out the difference between pressing and ironing. Anthony started as a tailor and has gone onto quilting. But his early training was in couture. He told me that ironing is the flattening of fabric. It’s a sliding movement across the fabric. Pressing is ironing in one place to persuade a seam to be on one side or another. Pressing leaves the fabric in one place. Ironing moves the fabric, and sometimes your seam as well. There is a difference.
Well, in this case it took ironing. It turned out I could iron 3 drawers in one day. That sounded like process until I counted up to around 40 drawers. I think I have my non-creative fabric project for low energy days for a long time.
One other word about ironing, it’s all in the fabric content. Anything that is a test tube baby,(nylon, rayon, and polyester) can and will melt. I’ve done it once in demo. It was quite dramatic. For regular cotton ironing I use a Black and Decker Classic iron, a recreation of the 1950s black irons. They use very high heat and generate a lot of steam. For the test tube babies, one of the modern irons that are made for polyester clothes is safer. I no longer use expensive irons. These fit my needs just fine.
I found fabric I’d long forgot. I have small sample bridal and dressy fabric samples that make the best dragonfly wings and bug bodies. And wonderful lace and organzas that make landscapes and sky washes. There were wonders I hadn’t seen in years.
And being someone who never really cleans, folds or puts away except when drawers fall out, I had no idea how much less space it takes up to store folded iron fabric instead of stuffing it in a drawer. Who knew?
My machine is home, 6 drawers are ironed and we will resume the channel to chaotic embroidery until the next disaster occurs.
Normally I talk about quilting, art and design technique. But my beloved sewing machine is currently at the vet. So my 230 is on the table and I’m puddling along with projects. I thought about the lighting makeover we did recently.
Light is sight. We see nothing without lighting, and without good lighting we just don’t see well enough. That affects everything, from threading needles to photography, to fabric choices. And my eyes aren’t getting younger.
I’ve done my sewing in attics, and basements and back closets, and in class in all kinds of lighting, most of it pretty bad. But a studio makes it’s own demands. Besides, I was hunting everywhere for my reading glasses, all the time.
Lighting has changed drastically since the beginning of leds. I decided to put Don on it. There had to be a way to make this better. He had the best ideas. We made some mostly cheap changes that changed it all!
Some simpler changes that are really effective. Don changed the 60 watt warm ceiling bulbs to 100 watt bright white leds. It’s not a restful change. But it’s real illumination, even at night. The change is dramatic. It makes the room crackle with energy and it takes out the dark spots. I can even see the things I dropped under the machine on the floor.
The old incandescent bulbs took a lot of energy to create light and threw a lot of heat off as a byproduct. The compact twisty florescent bulbs were more efficient, but they had mercury in them and it made them really bad to clean up after they broke. I’ve had ott lights, but I never really noticed a big difference with them. Leds create light just through electricity. They can be very bright without the heat and so much safer. And I can adjust the temperature on many of them. The link on top will take you to a great Cnet article about leds.
I’ve already discovered shop lights. My favorite ones have a ring in the center with a magnifying glass. These are one pivot and can be swung directly to the spot where you need one. My first one had a florescent and an incandescent bulb. Now the new led ones can directly change the temperature and intensity. The table clamp means it can be anywhere and won’t fall over. These are a bit pricey but lovely. I have one on each machine table. Pay attention to the lums, the magnification and the size of the arm. The wider the arm, the wider area it illuminates.
We also put in a pole light at my sewing table with a reading light on it. These are a cheap fix. A pole light reflects light off the ceiling and brightens the whole area. The reading lamp is direct light on your work. They both help a lot. They’re available at all kinds of places at a full price range, and help particularly as a hand sewing or ripping light. Remember to change the bulb to a 100 watt cool blue and the shade to white.
My 770 Bernina has a bright light under the arm of the machine. One more reason to love it! But you can buy those lights, and put them under all kinds of sewing machines. Light right where you need it. Even on old machines.
We have some excellent photo lights. But they are big and unwieldy. For smaller pieces it’s like chopping vegetables with a machete. Just too much power for the task. So we put in some smaller photo lights that can change temperature and intensity at the push of the button. The heads on both of them are about the size of a large post card.
Consistency with lighting makes for a consistent portfolio. Work is has a consistency in color ranges and tone. Having consistent lighting confirms that and makes it shows off better. In a way, it’s good branding. And they work well for vlogging and videos.
If you aren’t regularly taking photos of your work, start now. If your critics don’t care, your grandchildren will. Everyone’s art deserves to be documented. Yours too.
Did you leave the iron on? Is the mangle plugged in? Are the machines running? Unanswerable questions unless you’re really willing to look hard at every appliance at the end of a hard day. All satisfied by a florescent light and a power strip.
These aren’t about illumination. But they let me know when the electricity is flowing. They’re plugged into a power strip with the other studio electrics. When they’re off, everything on that power strip is off. When they’re on, you know just by putting your head in the room. Some go on the wall. Some are free standing. I have one for each room so I know when I’ve left something on. Do I have the same kind in each room? Don’t be silly. I have a dinosaur, a whale, a star, Jupiter, and a flying bat.
Power Strips
The downside to a lot of this lighting is that is that they use USB plugs. I can’t say I understand it. They just do. You can buy power strips with USB plugs or use an adapter.
I’ve put in links so you can easily find these things. But they’re universally available.
Look for the lighting that lights up your life.
There’s another byproduct of good lighting. Bright lighting makes me happier. That never hurts either.
Sometimes it just doesn’t work. most of the time I can see it in my head. Except when I can’t tell until I get it up on the wall.
I was a bit unsure when I drew the bird. But he had great movement. I stitched it out anyway.
Two things happened. It shrank and that was a real problem. How much? I had a notion so I measured. Roughly 8.9 %. Doesn’t sound like much but it didn’t help. I’d used a yellow thread in the mix that didn’t make me happy. And I hated his legs. They just didn’t quite work.
But honestly it was just the wrong bird. Much happier with this drawing. Ignore the lines with squiggles. They are off. It will have to be drawn in reverse for the picture.
Years ago in college I made a stone wear red queen as a portrait of my mother. Trust me. It was appropriate. It blew up in the kiln.
Stubborn is just tenacious in a different dress. I built again and this time it survived the firing. Of course they put all my work after that in the firings where a woman did work that always blew up.
So I have an extra bird I don’t quite know where it goes. And a bird I love drawn ready to go. Not a big problem as these things go.
Sometimes it makes sense to settle. Sometimes it costs your heart and soul. I hope not to get in too big a hurry to hear myself. Or to work until it’s right.
Update:
Here is where that bird finished up. He’s so much better sized for these fish.
This is what happened with the second bird drawing. Boy, am I glad I refused to settle.
There’s nothing like being on a roll with a piece. You’re sewing away. You have one more bit to do, or maybe three or maybe five. It’s a bit questionable but you push through because it’s so good to be done.
By now I should be prescient about that. That’s a ledge with a chasm right by it. And I should know I’m likely to fall. I did that this week.
three fish
I had that green heron quilt ready to go. Got the heron on. Looked at the fish and decided I needed an odd number. Three was a bit empty. So I decided on five.
five fish
Did I look? Actually I did. Did I think? Perhaps that’s the problem. My brain knows that odd numbers work better than even ones. My eye knew the fifth fish just didn’t fit in. I listened to my brain. Not so smart.
Theories don’t always work. If your eye tells you it’s wrong, then it’s wrong. Had I listened I would have saved myself three hours with a mustache trimmer and seam ripper. And a ruined fish.
Design is important. So is color. So is drawing. But in the end, it’s how the piece balances and flows when it’s all done. This is the part you can foul up with everything else right. And the answer is simple. You need to look at it.
Not just put it up and see. Put it where you can really analyze whether it balances and flows and whether there’s stuff.
I’m bad at this. That moment when I get that urge to finish…. it gets me every time I follow it.
So how do we look at a quilt differently?
Old school is to just back away far enough from it to see it. It’s not enough to see it laid on the table. You need to hang it to see it. I used to hang really large pieces off the porch and walked down the alley to really see it.
I’ve also used a a wide angle viewer. These let you view a big quilt in a small space. They are very valuable.
Another old school method is a ruby beholder, or a color evaluator. It’s a red or green piece of plastic where you can see the values in your quilt as opposed to the colors. It’s a huge help.
All of that steps back to a digital camera. And yes, your cell phone will probably do that.
Just get far enough back to photo the whole piece. And then, changed the photo to black and white. You can see the movement, whether something needs to be put over slightly to one side. Whether you’ve just got a hole or it’s too cluttered. Whether something disappears. It will also show you if you’ve got a value problem.
My bird is a bit subtle here. But I don’t think I mind that. He’s hunting after all, so he needs to be.
Leaves in place
It’s always better to do that before you sew things down. You would think I would learn. Experience is the best teacher, and some fools will have no other.
I’ve worked on cleaning up the studio over the last two days. Finishing The Garth left me done in a lot of ways. It’s hard to change gears and start something new. Usually I fish around for what’s left over from something else to make something new. It’s kind of like stone soup. You start something out of pretty much nothing and throw things in. It works for me. It isn’t often I start something out of complete nothing. There’s something left over, and it needs it’s own place.
You can really measure time in objects. Certainly you can measure time in work you’ve done. I was thinking about how my work has changed over the years. I’ve been quilting since I was 21. I’m 68. I have had time to see the art quilt movement start, grow, boom, explode, and retreat a bit . But if I’m honest about it, much of what I did was about the fabrics that were available to me. So I thought I’d look back at some of my work, and show where it shifted for me. Please forgive some of these photos for their size and detail. Some of them are quite old and out of my hands.
Solid colors:
I made my first quilts as bed quilts. I made them. We used them. They died, as most bed quilts do.
After that I fell in love with Amish quilts. That kind of stitching can only show up on solids. They arrived on the quilt scene around in the beginning 1980’s . Of course I couldn’t hand stitch them either. I was a dreadful hand quilter always. I worked with a walking foot and quilting by counting four stitches over for each row.
Hand Dyed Cotton
I’d been dyeing fabric since I was ten. But it was a game changer when I started treating dyed fabric with sponge painting. It gave me a light source within the quilt that I didn’t need to piece.
Sheer Fabrics:
I discovered sheers and laces as applique for translucent things like water, air, fire and flower petals. It gave me a way of layering things objects. It’s a cool trick and I still use it.
Weird brocades:
I first came into fancy brocades at the textile discount outlet in Chicago. But I’ve hunted them ever since. They make magnificent bugs.
Hand Dyed Cheesecloth:
Hand dyed cheesecloth makes a marvelous sheer. And It acts just like cotton because it is cotton. Here I used it to make mountains, but I’ve used it for flowers, mushrooms, rocks, and all kinds of things. The texture is cool too.
Oil Stick Rubbed Fabric
Oil Rubbed Fabric.
For as much as I avoided prints and textures, I’ve now fallen in love with the textures I can create with paint stick rubbed fabrics.
As I was cleaning out my studio I found all of these things. Some of them I use constantly. Some of them I see as a thing I outgrew a while ago. But art is not measured by our products. It’s measured by learned skill, new ideas and inspiration in use.
I remember being told I should color within the lines. It’s probably just as well I never was able to do that. I’m certainly not about to start now.
I’ve been totally hooked on paintstick rubbing. Like everything else, it’s a tool to be used with other tools. I’ve been exploring more and more how to incorporate different plates with each other in design. Here’s the latest batch.
I love them. And I’ve recently found some iridescent paint sticks in colors that didn’t come in the kits.
There’s only one limit I don’t like. The plates tend to be small. You can repeat all you like. But they don’t lend themselves to larger pieces. Not to worry. I decided there needed to be a way. I went looking for more kinds of rubbing plates. The choices are limited.
I tried drawing with glue on placemats. I tried carving foam. I got desperate and bought some fondant plates. All too small or not quite enough. Or a huge mess. Not satisfactory.
Not everything that works marvelously was made for that purpose. Some of the best tools of the quilt world have been borrowed from some odd places. My favorite thread bags were originally worm bags for fishing. Rotary cutters started as carpet cutters, I’m told. Surgical seam rippers really are a surgical tool some brilliant nurse brought in to their quilting studio.
So in that same spirit, I bought some ceiling tiles. They’re two feet by two feet. And beautiful! Stiff textured plastic. Exactly like a rubbing plate, only bigger.
Here’s what they look like rubbed. I’m in love!
So I’m not supposed to use ceiling tiles that way? Isn’t a good thing I didn’t pay any attention to those rules? I think so.
There aren’t many times in your life when you bring home a new sewing machine. Even for those who work in the industry, it’s a red letter day.
Thursday, I brought home a new to me (gently used ) 770 Bernina from Feed Mill Fabrics and Quilting in Oneida, IL. Don took this picture of me having fallen into the machine sewing. Yes. Like that. I sew until the machine and I are one.
I’m not a high tech girl, and I’ve worked most of my life on mechanical machines. But there are things about this bemouth that are to love. The throat size. The quiet motor. The speed of it. The excellence of the stitch.
My 630 is gratefully on the side as a backup, but I can see this new machine is going to take center stage of my sewing. It’s just as well the dogs and cats are banned from the studio, because I think it could eat a cat solid. We just won’t go there.
You don’t just buy a sewing machine. You buy the ability of a sewing machine. You buy the ability it gives you. I don’t need the embroidery capability. But this is the kind of solid sewing I crave, and what I test out every day doing the crazy stitching I do.
So this is what I did the first day I brought it home. I stitched my ass off for an afternoon, 12,000 stitches according to the machine! It ran like a top.
It needs a moth, I think!
Most of all, I’m touched by the support I’ve had. Don has believed in me and given me more backing than I’ve known in my life. He gave me my studio and walked me into get this machine. He leaves me amazed. He sits in the studio and cheers me on day after day. I adore him.
We kind of crisped our plastic purchasing it, but it was possible at all because people like you bought quilts and made it possible. The quilts are all still on sale until Sept. 21, in case you would like one, or like to help.
But all of you who helped me, bought quilts, backed me up, went to my classes, read my blogs and have wished me well, Thank you! You’ve made it possible for me to follow my art. You are a part of my heart and my heart.
You can hear me with my heart beating in time with the machine. I’m in love.
