Iridescence: The Color That’s Not A Color

Color is a fickle subject. It is almost impossible to talk about because it’s completely visual. We can speak of it scientifically but that only gives us numbers. Those numbers mean nothing until we see the colors. The only have meaning in someone’s sight.

But we do know that colors relate to each other. The way we see them is in context with each other. The names we give colors mean very little. How they appear within the context of of the colors around them is what we respond to. Add to that, each of us see color differently. It’s experiential.

I’ve been working on this quilt quite a while. I stippled it this week with iridescent candlelight and sliver. When I got done, It glowed quite green. Both thread look white in the photo. They look white on the spool too. How could that be?

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Here is the Wikipedia definition of iridescence .

Iridescence (also known as goniochromism) is the phenomenon of certain surfaces that appear to gradually change color as the angle of view or the angle of illumination changes. ….. It is often created by structural coloration (microstructures that interfere with light). “

Wikipedia defined iridescence as colors that shift and change across the surface of an object. An abalone shell is the perfect example of iridescence, although we also see it in beetles, soap bubbles, butterfly wings and oil slicks. Which may explain why I love all of those things. Its not a color. It’s a shifting of light.

When we start talking about iridescent thread, I found it was more a matter of advertising than of anything else. All kinds of threads were called iridescent. Most of them were pretty metallics in variant colors. Not anything like an abalone shell.

The fiber used is Lurex. It’s a plastic film that has that dance of color across it. Sliver is just the film itself. Candelight is a thicker thread with the Lurex twisted into it. Iridescence is not a color. But it reflects the color around it, shining in it’s own way.

That green glow starts to show it this photo. But like all art, photos never quite show what’s there. You need to see a piece in person, to watch it glow iridescently. The other colors around it bask in it’s light.

On another note, I am going in for surgery this next week. It may be a couple of weeks before I blog again. Please forgive me if it takes a while between posts here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

Thick Thread, Thin Thread: Thread Work as Grain

One of the mostly lovely things about free motion is that there are no limits. Not in size, not in shape, not in color. Anything thought can be done.

One of the things that changes the look of an embroidery most is the size of the thread. Regular embroidery thread is 30-40 weight ( which means if you lay 30 threads side by side, it would make 30 inches.) It can be used either for zigzag stitching or straight.

8 weight thread needs to be stitched from the bobbin. It can only be used for straight stitch. The look is very different. But it’s also abstracted.

The size of the thread creates a grain, like a photograph. A thicker thread looks more abstract, and less detailed, but it has a strong visual impact. Here are some images in thick and thin threads for you to see the difference.

Thread choices make a huge difference in the look of embroidery. Pick your threads for your own delight.

Owled: More Serieous Work

Hunter’s Moon 2

I can’t explain my fascination with owls! I only know I want to fly with them. In general, I think it’s the silent, swift explosive movements they make. I only wish I could move that way.

Or it just could be a need to occasionally work with browns. Owls will do that for you.

Or the desire to live in the light of the moon. I don’t do them often, but I love it when I do.

Or their faces, wise and feral, and all seeing. I would very much like to be an owl.

Sometimes its a wonderful thing when a quilt doesn’t work. I did an attempt of a quilt with 3 owls in it that was awful. I never got the background to work. But the owls… Three owls. Just doing nothing.

Hunters Moon 2 detail

Here is the first owl in Hunters Moon 2

I’m working with the second owl now in Owl at Sunset. It will be in process for a while, but I thought you might like to see some of it’s bits.

Woo knows what will happen with the third one. Aren’t you glad that first quilt didn’t work. I am.

sun and rocks added

Come back and I’ll show you more as I get there. It can’t get more serieous.

And check out these other Serieous Blogs!

More Serieous Work: Fishing in the Dream Stream

My father fished as a religion. His days off, his sabbath, was spent in a battered row boat, sitting, waiting for the fish to bite. The First Church of Fishing created much better people than those in my mother’s church. I didn’t really catch either of their faiths, but I was shaped by them. Perhaps faith is something one can really only come to on your own. She took me to her church on a regular Sunday

But when I was very lucky, he’d take me with him. He quickly learned that I had no interest in the death of fish. Or their consumption. I wanted nothing to do with fish dinner. Bur I was fascinated with their fishy lives. I would lean out of the boat until I could almost touch the water with my face, to look in on their fishy world.

I remember his hand on my shirt, lightly caught from the back just in case I slipped. I suspect that taking me fishing was very different than fishing on his own. But he never complained or refused to bring me. He just knew the day wouldn’t be spent in the catching of fish.

One of the things we do working in series, is that we retell our stories. Memory is not a static box. It’s a fluid river than changes moment to moment. In retelling the story, we find a way to make ourselves more brave, more healed, more whole. I know that I grow through series, working the images until they heal me.

To turn to turn, will be our delight, till by turning, turning we come round right.

Shzker song

If there’s an image or subject that catches your soul, even if it frightens you or unsettles you, work with it. It’s part of you trying to find it’s place, turned round right.

Leftovers: The Art of Including Something from the Past

Butterfly Garden

I know some people who meticulously plan their quilts. I envy them. They draw them out on cocktail napkins or in a notebook, or a design wall. And it doesn’t change. They have a straight line vision and if they were in a boat you’d say they were rowing to the shore.

I’m just not one of them. I walk into the studio, look at what I’m working on and the squirrel process begins. You know what I mean. I see one thing and it makes me think of something else in a bin somewhere that I know is perfect except that I ran into something even better when I moved a pile over and I found something left over from another quilt.

Grotto Gem is one of the left over bits from Butterfly Garden. It didn’t quite work with the others but it was magic but itself.

Let’s just say it’s like treasure hunting. There isn’t a map, just the memory of the myth. I’m in a boat roaring down the river without a paddle. I cling to the side and whats where the river of creativity takes me.

Somewhere I have the perfect butterfly, bird, frog, mushroom, name your critter, waiting to go into that new quilt. All I have to do is dig deep enough for it.

In the brand new studio? Are there piles in the brand new studio? Already?

OF COURSE THERE ARE.

I’ve gotten quite precious about left over bits. And I produce them in bulk. If I decide to do mushrooms I am likely to do ten of them when I only need two.

Stag Party

Why?

It’s process. Left over mushrooms in the studio are not different than left over mushrooms in the refrigerator. Did you fry them with bacon and sherry? You know full well theyll go into the next casserole seamlessly.

But its easier to do them in a lump. The machines are all set a certain way, for free motion applique, or for bobbin work, or for zigzag embroidery. The backgrounds are on thin felt, hand dye and stitch and tear. And I’ll have a basket of the thread colors I want to feature. And rather than make two mushrooms for a quilt, I’ll make ten just to have the left overs, waiting for their time on another quilt. It’s also in an organized set of colors. Mushrooms on another day may not feature neon orange, but I always reserve the possibility. They make a collection of mushrooms that go with each other, and that is useful again and again.

I’m going to show you some quilts, some done and some not finished, that were left overs to start with.

This back and this fish sat in the same bag for years. I took out the background and the fish fell onto it. What can a girl do?

I purposely made way too many moths for this owl. The owl is from a quilt that simply didn’t work. They’re both in process.

But one of the moths found it’s way into Stag Party, and I have two more pinned into another quilt.

Ladybug Rising

This aggressively pink background sat in the suitcase until this ladybug came along.

My point is that extras are part of pulling creation forward. They move on the conversation of what you’re working on, into other work, which asks other things of you. They are a natural part of studio work, which is the training of your art.

And your art is a precocious child who needs love, permission, more crayons and free time to find her way. Celebrate it all. Especially the leftovers that start up the process.

left over moth

Color Theory: The Tug Across the Wheel

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.