Fiber Art

Splitting the sky: The Advantage of Split Light Sources

| ellenanneeddy

I don’t piece well. It’s not my skill. Anything that takes accuracy and careful cutting really isn’t my skill. The new 770 Bernina came with a foot that does make it better, but I don’t normally do large pieced tops. I know better. It’s not pretty when I do.

But there are rare occasions when I piece a split light source top.

Why? Why walk into accuracy land and piecing?

A light source brings you fabric with direction, and a built-in world. That world can be integral by itself. But if you want to filter the light as if it were through haze, woods, or shadow, you can piece two light source fabrics to create that shaded look. There are several approaches, with different effects.

Vertical Piecing

Where the Heart is

Where the Heart Is was pieced from two separate yards of the same blue/orange color range. I lay both pieces together on the cutting board and cut them in gradated strips, 2″, 3″, 4″, etc. Then I sewed them together with the narrowest light of one to the widest side of the other, in gradation. Set in a vertical arrangement, it makes for light flowing through the trees.

Horizontal Piecing with a Frame

Envy

Envy was one horizontal light source yard, split in gradations with a half yard cut in 2″ strips put between. The piecing creates a sense of space. The narrowest strip in the gradation defines the horizon line.

Piecing within Multiple Frames

Sometimes I split the two fabrics with the light at the widest on one side and the dark widest cut so they can carry the light across the piece. Twightlight Time was also double framed with a 2″ and a progressive border. Having a narrower border on the top weights the bottom of the piece.

Piecing Machines

Lately, Don found me a Singer 99 at a yard sale. For those of you not familiar with these darlings, they are a featherweight industrial drop-in bobbin Singer. They only straight stitch, but the stitch is impeccable. They are tougher, and faster and they use bobbins that are still commercially available. I’d never seen one before, but I fell in love instantly. It took a little work and some creative parts searching, but Don got it working for me and it’s perhaps the best piecing machine I’ve ever had. Did I mention Don is my hero?

So I pieced the guinea hen’s background on it.

How do you keep it straight? It’s tricky. If I get them out of order the fabric doesn’t progress correctly through its colors. I make all my cuts, leave the fabric on the cutting board until I can number the pieces all on the back side. Since there are two pieces of fabric cut, I label my fabric, 1a,2a, etc. and 1b, 2b, etc. and chalk in the sequence on the ends so I can always keep them in order.

Expanding Fabric Size

Sometimes there’s just a beautiful fabric that needs to be bigger. That’s been known to happen too.

I needed a background for What the Flock, a grouping of guinea hens. I’m low on fabric and money right now, so I have to make do. I found a purple piece that should make a great meadow, but a yard was just a bit small. So I pieced in another half-yard to expand it. I cut the half yard in 2.5″ widths and graded the yard-long piece in segments of 9″, 8″, 7″, 6″, and 5″,

Seam Rollers

For those of you like me, who hate to run back and forth to the iron, there is a seam roller. You can use this gadget to flatten your seams right where you’re sewing. Roll it over the seam and you’ll have flat, ready-to-sew seams without the iron woman run.

I don’t piece often, but these backgrounds are worth it. I love the shaded light and the action of light of the fabric across the piece.

the irony of ironing: taming exploding fabric drawers

| ellenanneeddy
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.

FENCED IN: Making Fences

| ellenanneeddy

Most artists have something they do specially. The secret to that is that special focus usually camouflages that which they are not good at. I’m no different. I can’t sew a straight line to save myself. So I don’t. I do nature images where straight lines aren’t a problem. I don’t do well on straight line piecing either.

Except that that is a limit. And I hate limits. So every so often I push past that and try no matter how bad I am at it.

I’ve been working on a garden series called bird feeders. The premise is that every good garden feeds and cares for everything that lives within that garden. And some things just don’t grow without support. Which means a fence. Of course I’m not talking about clean new straight fences. What fun is that?

I’m not good at fences. You should be able to piece a good fence. But I’m really not good at piecing. These are three things I’ve tried instead of that.

Years ago, I did a child’s book called Tigrey Leads the Parade. It was about my dog who ran away daily as an art form. Since it involved escaping from the yard, it involved a lot of fences. This is a fence, embroidered with #5 pearl cotton on a tea towel.

Tigrey Leads the Parade

I love these stitched fences. But they were tiny. When I wanted something bigger, I tried something with an oil paint stick rubbing. I found a border edging at Menards and rubbed the fence texture on to my background fabric.

Bird Feeder: Sunflower

I consider this a mixed success. I like the fact that the fence looks crooked and old. But the distortion, even with straight stitching and stabilizer was pretty ferocious. Were I to do it again, I’d use another layer of Stitch and Tear.

So when I went to do the next piece I had some left over gray pieces I’d used as sidewalk. I used them to make the fence. The wood grain stipple helps it, I think,

They didn’t quite work as realistically, but I think they made a good fence. And good fences, as Mr. Frost knows makes good neighbors. And better quilts.

Do I have it down yet? I don’t think so, but I think I’m closer. If we don’t push past our limits, the limits are real. No one wants that, right?

The Wrong Bird: Not Settling

| ellenanneeddy

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.

The Importance of Backing Up: Looking before You Leap

| ellenanneeddy

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.

Anybody Out There? Where Can I Go For Some Moral Advice?

| ellenanneeddy

Art seems like a solitary pursuit. And it is to the main. Most of us work alone in our studios for days without any input or comment, trusting on our eye and our sense of balance and color.

But in another way, no art is solitary. For one thing, one piece of art speaks to another piece of art being born. “This is how I am. You may be like me but you will be separate. But what you are is formed by the part of who I am. ” Your art work grows from one piece to another. The art itself, is almost just a byproduct. The real achievement is the skill and ability grown from the experience.

Art is also derivative. We would like to believe we are completely original, but all ideas are sparked by other ideas, images, thoughts, words and works. The task is to make them so wholly your own that the origin does not stand out and draw attention to itself. It’s there, if you’re looking and you know, but it’s overshown by what the artist does with it.

Good art blends between origin and action. We take what we know and build it into something separate and wonderful.

How do we do that on our own? Actually, I don’t think we can very well. Sometimes I put a piece up on line and ask a question of folk. I had someone ask me why I was asking them. I told her everyone needs advice sometimes.

In the beginning of my career, I went to a Chicago based art quilt group called F.A.C.E.T.S. It included Caryl Bryer Fallert, Ann Fahl, Jane Sassaman, Ann Wasserman, Kathy Weaver and a number of of other cutting edge quilters, some of them before they made their names. It was life changing. It was exhilarating. It was also hard. I learned so much from them. They didn’t change my art, but they helped me mold it. We grew in our careers, went other places, and the group, to my knowlege folded at some point. We’re all scattered now, but we did what we did because there were people to balance us and support us in our explorations.

The internet is a grand resource, but I’m looking for a group I can bounce things off of in person. I treasure sharing work with you on the internet, and your sharing in return. But I want the connection of really seeing the art and people’s faces as you talk to each other. Some things are different in person.

Galesburg is a pretty traditional place. I know the quilt guild there is probably not ready for art quilts, and I don’t want the trouble or fuss of pushing my way into a group that’s focused differently than would interest me. I don’t expect to find a ready made group of art quilters here.

So I’m thinking of starting a group here. I think it could be something that spreads online. But for now, I want a group that is real, here, in front of each other. So we can really see each other’s work and react to it. I don’t need a whole lot of people. But I want to be sharing work with others and take joy in what they are exploring.

So, is anyone interested? My purpose is to offer critique to each other, and support. It may end up in classes, but that is not my goal. My goal is to have work shown, seen and kindly discussed in a way that helps us all move forward.

Does it matter what that person’s credentials are? Not really. I knew an eight year old girl I could trust every time. Her eye was that good and she’d tell you. Not always with your dignity left intact, but she was always right. And I always followed her advice if I could.

Here are my goals:

To promote fiber art/ quilting that is exciting and edge cutting

To build a support group for people doing art in odd ways in odd corners in fiber

To celebrate and stimulate the creative process

To build a community for artists that gives them confidence and courage

To find someone to tell me, ” You need to move it to the left, three inches.”

Who am I looking for:

People stretching and growing in their art

People who work in fiber/fabric/ regularly as a way of life and are serious about it.

People who’s work is about new creative visions and techniques

People who have graduated away from patterns and are working with their own ideas

People who are kind and respect other’s works and ideas

So is anyone out there? Would you be interested in an art quilt group in Midwestern Illinois in Galesburg. Call me up or email me. Come and join me.

219-617-2021 ellenanneeddy@gmail.com

The Miracle of Cheesecloth: Not Just for Turkey Anymore

| ellenanneeddy

I love sheers! I love the ability to have my background peak through the sheers to create the connection between background and an object.

But most sheers don’t paint or dye well. They are poly or nylon. They come in bright colors, but they have other problems. You can paint them in pastels. They don’t dye with fiber reactive dyes at all. And if you get your iron temperature wrong, they melt.

But cheesecloth does all that well! It’s all cotton, and woven loosely. And you can iron it on fry and it behaves like cotton.

You know cheesecloth. You just aren’t used to it in the sewing room. It’s an airy woven cotton people used to use to make cheese (hence the name). Or on turkies to keep the breast moist. You may have used it to make Halloween ghosts or Christmas angels.

But dyed, it can be any color in the universe. I include it in a regular dye batch and it dyes like a champ with fiber reactive dyes. And it washes out easily in your regular washer in a nylon lingerie bag.

It makes amazing leaves! The weave in the cheesecloth looks like the cells of the leaves and the stitching defines the color.

My favorite thing to do with cheesecloth is to make mushrooms. Child of the 60s that I am, they are a flora that fascinates me. And they are an excuse for eye popping color.

I do make them in batches. I’ll line up a set of mushrooms on a piece of felt, using Steam a Seam 2, pull out my brightest polyester embroidery thread and stitch up batches of mushrooms at a time, that I’ll use in many different quilts. The bright colors and zigzag stitch pop the the colors to a peak intensity. Now, who doesn’t want that?

What I did differently, is I made some smaller ones for pins and patches for my friend, Sherrill Newman who owns the South Shore Market in Porter, Indiana.

South Shor Market in Porter IN

I almost never make these available to people except as finished quilts. But she talked me into it. I made a small batch for her store. Some of the left overs I’ve put on sale on Etsy. They have pins backs on them, but if you wished to use them as a patch, it would be a matter of a moment to remove that with a seam ripper.

Hand dyed cheesecloth might just be the sheer you’ve been longing for. Bright, cotton, and beautifully texturized, it makes great flowers, leaves and ‘shrooms.

Serieous Work: Dancing Trees: If I Can’t Move That Way, They Can

| ellenanneeddy
Fall Fanfair
Fall Fanfair

My mother gave me dancing trees. We were in a train at Christmas time watching out the window when she told me, “Look Ellen, they’re dancing.”

690Fall Fanfair detail

I’ve never gotten over that. They’re still dancing.

Dancing is its own miracle. Life is a dance, and hopefully, we learn to move in it.

Not all of us do. I was taught not to move. Sitting very quietly was much safer. Instead, I lived in my head and my hands.

But it was in high school that I learned not to dance. It seems people’s mores disappear on the dance floor. It was worse than not being asked. It involved being thrown in to the bleachers. Too humiliating to try again. I’m told I should get over that. I have and I haven’t.

MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

My friends, Donna and Roy Hinman gave me back dancing. They ran a contra dance party once a month. Contra is a gentle Ring around the Rosie game for grownups. It was wonderful to move with everyone and be a part of it. Slowly they coaxed me back into the dance.

A life time of not moving is hard to translate into a life of movement. I was able to dance at my wedding. I move in my water aerobic classes. I’m limited by age, wear and tear. But if I can’t always dance, my trees can.

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.