This has been a counter-productive week. My leg went out ( still not sure why), and I’ve had some low-grade flu. So my studio work didn’t happen. Instead, I worked a bit in my library.
When I married Don and moved, I stripped my library down. I have several libraries. One is for personal information and entertainment. Small kitchen library. And a pile of art books. Somehow that has continued to grow.
Where does our art come from? We’d like everything to be completely out of ourselves. I’m not sure that’s possible.
We have several illusions about art. We’d like to believe all art is original. But it’s not. Art comes from our response to other images. All art is in some way derivative. Different pieces of art hold a conversation over time. Art changes how other art is made.
We are told only artists are artists. That’s just wrong. Art is not unique to artists. It’s a part of our genome. It’s the ability to view our world differently. In our view of the world, we begin to change our world. when we work with those images, we change ourselves, and that changes the world. Just a little bit. It’s the creation of sense, beauty, and order. We have to silence the voice that says we are not artists. Because it’s the voice that tells us we can’t. Because it strips us of power that has always been our own.
So how do we kick start art? We need to feed our eyes and refuse to hamstring ourselves. What our senses bring gives us all kinds of inspiration.
But back to art being derivative: We work with the images that set us on fire, move our inners, pop out our own eyes or perhaps someone else’s. And there is never any reference like a book. The zoo is closed. The science program moves too fast. The web pictures are tiny. Your own library is a wide world portal that never closes; Not even at three am.
So I look for books with enough animal pictures to know how many toes a frog has and what angle the leg is at. I look for landscape books, garden books. pet books, pictorial archives, amazing art artists, and how-to techniques. And beautiful kid books.
I love my library. It fills my eyes. it fills my head. It fills my life.
I jus made myself bookplates for the Galesburg address. This is sneaky. I get to open every book, if nothing else but to put the plate in.
Take your inspiration where you find it, but build up inspiration where it waits for you, like treasure in heaven.
For some while, I’ve bound my quilts with a buttonhole binding. It’s a buttonhole with a cord inside. At first, I wanted to accommodate a leaf or a frog leg coming out of the piece. Then I wanted to bust out in all kinds of places.
I wrote this 4 years ago. It’s pretty good instruction but it leaves out something I thought was obvious at the time.
I started out as a traditional quilter. And for years I bound all my quilts with bias tape. But as my work became more organic, it felt terribly strange to put my work in a square box.
“The corded buttonhole is a standard technique from couture sewing. Translated from there to the quilt world, it gives us a way to finish both quilts and art clothing in a new way that’s literally out of the box. Instead of the square edges and gentle curves that are the limit of bias binding, we have the freedom to follow any shape. That means that the edge of our pieces is not defined by straight lines, but by their internal design. It also means a quilt can have an external shape that fills a wall in a much more exciting way. And because our binding is thread, we have the full range of polyester thread colors for our palette.
I prefer to do this on my Bernina because of the specific feet and the stitch quality. You can use a regular utility foot and a couching foot off another kind of machine.
We’ll be using two basic feet for our binding.
What largely counts is the thread escape on the bottom of the foot.
The #1 foot has a top groove we can use to couch down the cord. The #3 foot has a thread escape groove on the bottom for the zigzag stitching to pass through. The #3 foot is the older style buttonhole foot (without the electronic eye)that has exactly the right thread escape to accommodate the buttonhole binding
You’ll need
#3 Crochet cotton
A quilt/ or quilted object backed, quilted, and ready to bind
Polyester #30-40 weight embroidery thread the color of your choice
A#3 foot and a #1 foot
A Bernina
A rotary cutter and mat
Binding
We’ll bind our piece with a corded binding that’s a corded buttonhole all around the edge.
Preparing your quilt:
Stitch around the edge either with monofilament nylon or with a neutral embroidery thread so that all the layers are together
Using your rotary cutter, cleanly cut away all the extra bat and backing fabric, exactly the shape you want your quilt to be.
You don’t have to have a square. It can be any shape at all. To keep sharp 45 degree corners or points, you need to clip the tips off them.
Thread your machine top and bottom with a polyester embroidery thread that you want for the color of your binding. You can use rayon or metallic thread, but the breakage makes things so much more difficult.
Attaching the cord:
Set your machine on a zigzag stitch, with the needle placed one position over from full left. Your stitch length should be at between the button hole setting at a # 4 width.
Position your quilt so the stitch falls just over the right hand edge of your quilt.
Start your stitching somewhere in the lower edge, not on a corner or direct curve.
Zigzag your cording all around the edge.
When you come to the end, drop your feed dogs and make several stitches to anchor the cord.
Clip your threads and cord.
Tip: If you have a quilt that ruffles at the edge, you can pull the cord and gather in the ruffle. This will not solve severe distortion problems, but it will fix minor ones. You should pull the cord before you change directions or turn a corner.
Covering the cord:
Your second pass should cover your cord with smooth zigzag stitching.
You’ll find certain areas may not have been included in the stitching. This will give you a chance to address that.
Set your sewing machine for the widest stitch it will give, and the densest stitch length it can handle. Put your needle position to the far right.
Use your #3 foot, with the double channel thread escape.
Position your quilt so that the stitch to the right ends over the edge of your quilt
Start at a lower edge, not on a corner or a curve.
Stitch around the edge of your quilt.
When you come to the beginning, move your needle position to the far left, set onto a straight stitch and stitch in place to anchor the stitching.
Sometimes I get enough coverage on the second pass, but that’s rare. Usually it takes a third time around. Turn the piece over. If you still have wisps sticking up through the binding, trim them as best you can, and go around another time.
Corners, curves and points:
These all take a bit of finesse. Your standard button hole stitch isn’t set up to cover them. But you can get good coverage on them by rocking your stitch over them. As you’re stitching, you can pull back just a bit from the front to make sure your stitch line covers everything. Curves may also need that assist. For corners and particularly for points stitch up to them and turn the piece at slightly different angles as you go round the edge. You can put the needle down within the point and pivot and stitch several times until you have coverage.
Tips:
A clean cut edge to your piece is always easier to cover with stitching. Use your rotary cutter and make a nice solid cut line.
Use a new topstitching #90 needle for the best stitch and for less thread breakage.
Sewers Aid applied to the thread also helps with thread breakage.
Organic quilts don’t have to be stuck in a box. A corded buttonhole binding lets your quilt go over the edge.”
This was my original article, four years ago. Here’s the secret ingredient I didn’t think to factor in. Almost all of the shapes going off the edge. What I forgot to say, is that almost all of the items going over the edge have been embroidered to a fare-the-well. That means they have 2 other layers of stitch and tear and felt. They can literally stand up of their own accord.
It does make a difference. And I hate to be someone who will give you a recipe with something essential left out.
I am excited to make quilts that are exactly the shape they should be. None of that square for the sake of square stuff.
There are people who tell me they can plan a quilt. They make drawings. They decide what they’re going to do. And that’s what they do.
Personally, I’m in awe. I can design until I’m blue. Somewhere in the middle, the quilt lets me know what it needs. And I need to follow that down whatever road it leads me down.
I fell in love with this mockingbird image. But it’s off my map a bit. Once I got it embroidered, I realized it was strictly a desert bird.
I don’t do desserts. I’m a water creature. I live in moonlight and water. But this is a bird full of sun and fire.
So I went looking for a background. I happened to have some purple behind the piece of orange I put up. And it had the bright green aura of cactus in it. The purple added a night and day element.
I needed to decide on plants. If I were to do anything it had to be cactus.
You can tell the fact that I don’t think in terms of deserts when I tell you I had nothing to make cactus and desert from. I had to dye more greens.
Which is when I found these wonderful pictures of owls in cactus.
So now I’m making owl heads. I need to do them before I make the cactus so I can make holes and fit them in.
One decision leads to another. I can’t make one until I’ve made that. Then new questions get asked and new things get included. If I think I’m in charge, I’m delusional.
But I believe in my art. I believe in what it demands. I am its servant. And I am willing to listen to what it would like me to do next.
I work a lot with embroidered appliques. These are embroidered separate pieces I can apply to the surface of my piece. Because they’re separate, they don’t distort the piece as much, and they can be moved endlessly until you stitch them down.
I discovered several working hacks for applique rescue doing this. A 2-foot lily pad takes up way too much space to have as a double layer. It’s just too bulky, and I wanted to stitch frogs to the lily pads which would have made a very dense surface.. I’d heard about cutting out behind appliques, but I hadn’t tried it before. It worked quite well. I was able to stitch down my frogs without an extra layer of felt, stabilizer, embroidery, and hand dye. I was worried about the integrity of the piece, but once it was stitched and trimmed, it was quite stable.
This works if you’re sure of what you have designed. What if you stitch it down and change your mind? Artists call this pentimenti. The artist chooses something and changes their mind. On a painting, it would be a layer underneath with different images. On fiber art, it’s a series of small holes where you ripped something out.
This was a week of set backs. I’ve been working on finishing the purple heron. When I get towards the end, I sometimes make decisions I regret.
This happened with my purple heron this week. I was working with some larger lily pads than I usually do, and I put them in first before the heron. In between the heron and the lily pads were the butterflies. When I finally got the heron stitched in, the butterfly was way too close and personal.
Removing an applique is a drastic thing to do. It’s been stitched down with a free-motion zigzag stitch that is quite dense. I’ve done it with a mustache trimmer. I also love my surgical scalpels. That’s what I used here. You can cut through the stitch on the backside. I have a layer of protective felt and stabilizer between that and the front.
But be prepared for holes. I hoped the needle holes would shrink when I steamed the piece. Not enough.
Here’s another rescue. A roll of tape can remove a lot of excess thread after ripping out.
Not to worry about the holes. I got out some left-over spirals and placed them in a design where the hole was. What hole? After that, I replaced my butterfly in a better spot.
Here it is fixed. I need to stipple in the water next.
,Does it happen to me? Of course, it does. Rather regularly. But it isn’t what goes wrong with a piece of art that defines it. It’s what you do after to fix it.
After several weeks of playing with leaf mantises, I have discovered several things. First off: a warning! They are addictive. At least they’re not fattening.
Secondly, I need more leaves. Lots and lots and lots of leaves. All the shops are seasonally xmasy, so that means rummage sales, and Yours to Create. Too many is not enough.
They work better if you stitch the leaves and connecting parts separately. I like the running garnet stitch better than a fully connected zigzag.
The head as a leaf doesn’t always work. I don’t know that I’d do that every time. But an embroidered one works just fine.
Straight stitch works best on leaves. Contrasting thread is your friend here.
I hope you get the time to pick something you want to play with and work it out. The exploration and the journey are all the fun.
This is under the heading of sneaky secret tricks. I rarely use an applique foot for applique. Instead, I use my darning foot and cover the raw edge in a free-motion stitch.
Why? Mostly because I rarely use a straight edge in my work, except for borders. I’m a curvy girl and I think in terms of curves.
I wanted a curvy vine for my butterflies to fly over and for the flowers to nestle into. layered on another piece of green hand dye, stitched out my vine in a straight stitch, and cut away all the excess. It’s best to get rid of all the extra fabric you can. I use pelican scissors to trim as close as I can get to the seam. Pelican scissors have an odd bend that lets you cut right on the edge.
Then I picked a light, dark and medium set of threads for the edge. Vines have two sides, and one can be done light and the other dark. If it’s a complicated vine, it may take a wider range. You want colors that could be the same if they were in a darker or lighter environment.
Stitching the top and bottom line of the vine in different colors gives it a visual distinction that makes it look dimensional. And because it’s free motion, the line is fluid and follows the curve more graciously.
Here’s my piece, almost ready to back and bind. Free motion applique is just what a curvy girl ordered.
Well, the doctors have finally decided. Sometime within the next week or two, I’ll be receiving a stent that should correct the heart blockage. Once that stabilizes, in 3-6 months, they’ll do the open heart surgery for the aneurysm and the leaky valve.
I’m grateful for doctors who are thoughtful and not given to a gung-ho philosophy toward surgery. And I’m grateful for the time to process this internally. I’ve gone through most of the grief process, and we do grieve when our bodies fail us. I believe I will be grieving also for the loss of butter and steak. That will take a while.
And I’m grateful to live in a time when medicine offers these options. Both my parents, my uncle, and one of my grandparents died of heart issues. We live in a different world, now, thank God.
Mostly, I’m grateful for the care and love you’ve all poured on me. I have no words but thank you. We’ll keep you posted on dates.
This week brought me two sewing machines at the shop. That doesn’t stop production, but it does structure what I work on. My 770 bounced out of adjustment when I hit a lump of too-thick thread, and my 630 is not seeing the thread up top and won’t sew. So what is left is my 220.
Make no mistake! I love my 220. It’s a three-quarter-head Bernina that is my go-to classroom machine. It has limited stitches, but all I want out of life is really zigzag and straight. And it has the heart and guts of a Bernina. Perhaps because it’s smaller, I tend to be protective of it. I do hate having only one production machine in-house because if something else happens….You guessed it. An addict is always an addict. I guess at least free-motion stitching isn’t fattening.
So I’m stitching small component pieces right now. I’ve been working on white butterflies for a while, with several different plans for them.
I wanted some white butterflies, particularly for the purple heron quilt. It needed brightening. But white is always difficult, because it’s usually just too bright. And flat white has no shading in it. So how do you build shading in white? You’re left either working in pastels or greys to try to get a dynamic between light and dark.
Of course, using a too-wide range of pastels creates a color that looks like a nursery toy. And grey is basically boring.
So here, my solution was to start with a periwinkle blue, use silver, and then iridescent white thread to top it off. The blue shades the darkest parts, the silver is a nice in-between, and the iridescent white sparks off the lightest areas. It’s always a good plan to shade dark to light, with at least three colors.
But while I was working on the white parts, I realized I wanted to fill the eye spots and edges differently. I put in a darker edge and either a lighter side of the same shade, or a brighter spot in the center. Rather than see that as shading, I think of it more as blending color.
You can’t do this without enough colors, and the colors on metallics are always more limited, but the Madeira Supertwists were designed with a darker and lighter shade of each color. I outlined with a darker shade and filled in with the lighter. The effect is a more dimensional space.
I have several quilts in mind for these butterflies. Next, more new ladybugs! Shading with black threads.
Sometimes I think I should call my blog Studio for Real. I probably make the same bumbles and false starts as anyone else. I do try to show them to you for several reasons. It’s good for you to see that perfect is an abstract that doesn’t exist. That anything worth doing is worth doing badly. And that everything is basically an experiment. It’s Wednesday at the Micky Mouse Club. Anything can happen.
I’ve been working on the purple heron for a while When I put in the white lotuses, I wanted more. More of that white sparkle. So I started some white metallic butterflies.
I had some leftover felt squares and I used them for stabilization. But they weren’t all the same color. I didn’t want to put a layer of hand-dye into the sandwich so I didn’t.
Three quarters through the butterfly I turned it over to photo it. It was ugly. Irredemably ugly. I’d stitched my colors from periwinkle, sage green, silver, to crystaline white. Was it that really pale green that did it? How did it get grungy?
That happens a fair amount. Particularly when a piece is half done. A lot of times it gets better as you go on. Or put the eyes in.
It is better cut out. But compared to the ones on teal or white felt? No contest!
It’s official. I’ve found an officially ugy color. That soft sage green is only good for fish and frog tummies. I won’t use it with something I want sparkly white.
But it’s also deeply affected by the bright green background behind it. My backgrounds make a big difference, particularly if I don’t add in a layer of hand dye. That dark green did me no favors.
Next I decided just to see what the difference would be, to make up some butterflies in Poly Neon with white felt. I thought I might need more brightness.
Surprise! I’ll use these brighter butterflies, but not in this quilt. The metallic ones are more subtle. I wouldn’t have bet on choosing subtle, but this time it’s right.
Do I always thrash around about decisions? No, not unless I do. We all need the time in our art journey to try things out, to take false steps, and to turn, turn again until we come round right.
