The Grass was Greener

I don't know these women, though they are related to me. The two columns of distance and language prop up our stranger-hood. My grandmother, pictured on the far left, emigrated to the United States from the Czech Republic in the 20s (she always called it Bohemia).

When I added this photograph to my computer library the software tried to identify each of my great aunts and my grandmother. It made me think about my original intentions with this piece.

Babi was an adventurous sort with definite opinions. She would launch into Czech when she wanted to make her point known to my father. He would nod and smile.

I've spent the past couple of months with their images, experimenting with embroidery. My fingers are punctured and calloused, my neck a little stiff, and my eyes a bit fuzzy from the strain of looking at all this detail.

I learned about the right needles to use (very sharp with larger eye), how the fabric reacts to hand stitching as opposed to machine stitching and which thimble I prefer (see below).

I regret not having a fatter batting in the sandwich, I may try wool next time. I tried to use an embroidery hoop but the batting and double layer of fabric was too thick and the frame got in my way. The inset linen frame around the edge was a supreme challenge that taught me a lot about how not to cut 45 degree joins when you have a limited supply of perfectly edged linen. (no need to go into detail, you get my meaning)

My favorite thimble has a silicone bottom and a metal top. The silicone clings nicely to my middle finger. I love that the photo program sees a little being in it.

So, now I am done with these women. They live in my memory as a strong and stalwart group.

I think that they, too, would put a bandaid on before applying the thimble so as to be sure that it stays on.

still learning, still trying

Writing is hard. Writing a regular journal requires nerves of steel and a clear vision of what the hell you want to say. I have a running list of ideas that I keep as I am working. This journal serves as a reminder to myself that I am working toward goals, with ideas that are inspired by my observations which tend to morph over time. Dialing back the record often surprises me when I follow the course of one piece.

Here's an example of that, I have been working on this piece since 2014:

I am creating wire chairs for the center of this cloth representing the 7 nations that came together to create the nuclear arms non-proliferation agreement with Iran.

Textural details

All fenced in. Now what?

The (is it worth it?) debate

Building fences

Breakthrough

And it's still not done. Writing can be like that too. drafts get discarded. Ideas morph. Doubt moves in. I'm still learning.

I am non-verbal

I show up. Every day. for hours. and hours. It's a nest. This week has been particularly intense due to my goal of finishing a number of lingerers — those pieces that linger on the draft board without a finished edge, without a way to hang themselves, without a final yes in my final work-in-progress voting booth.

Here, Silent Witnesses is on the trimming board.

So I finished a few, hand-sewing facings and hanging sleeves. Fixing that little divot of stitching that bugged me. Adding just a bit more detail. Trimming excess.

I focused in on the details of craft.

My favorite thimble, a metal tipped silicone model, is a must have when finalizing the details of facings and hanging sleeves. This piece was done on canvas, so pushing the needle through the facing and fabric back proved difficult. I was tempted to just glue them down. But using an embroidery needle and pushing it through with that metal tip worked.

Refuge needed more marks and texture.

Finishing makes me edgy and still at the same time. I count stitches, measure space and drift into repetition. My brain goes into non-verbal mode. I look at the endless edge that needs turning and call upon my inner, resolute put-my-head-down-and-do-it mood that stops everything else. At the end my shoulders ache and I am eager to clear away the boards.

Scattered showers needed some rain.

Don't get me wrong, I can be distracted. Answering emails, looking for lunch companions, organizing one last shelf of collected debris provide respite. But finishing is its own reward. It stops a thought and allows it to move on. It shows the weaknesses of a piece and gives me an avenue to pursue the strengths.

The boards are cleared. Space allows new thoughts. Ready or not, here I come.

Free-motion Quilting 101

Many people have asked me how I do my free-motion quilting. And, usually, I say I am no expert. I couldn't do a feather if you paid me to do it. What I can do is respond to my ideas with a threadline that makes sense to me.  I do it sitting down on a domestic machine.

For me, using YLI 40 weight thread, both in my bobbin and on top, helps. But it is no panacea. Tension issues can arise based on how fat the batting, how loose my shoulders are and how dull my needle might be (I switch out my needles at least every two weeks and sometimes more if I am stitching intensively). I don't drop my feed dogs as it gives me a little more resistance that I find helps me in directing the thread. Some people prefer that the dogs are lowered. Let me remind you: it takes hours and hours of practice and a vision for where you want the thread to go.

If you are interested in starting the journey I recommend my friend Nysha Nelson's new video Free-motion Quilting 101 (buy it here). His precise, easy-to-follow instructions will get you bumping along the road with a set of tools that allow for creative exploration. Nysha takes the time to think through the zen of stitching. He allows the casual bump or divot to inform the work rather than detract from it. Nysha sets up simple exercises that won't overwhelm the beginner and will still challenge seasoned stitchers.

Starting the journey takes planning, deep breaths and a certain devil-may-care attitude that allows you to make mistakes along the way.  Listen folks, do we really want each stitch to be so precise that when people walk by they say that it must have been done by a computer? Not me. I like my quirks. Spoiler alert: I will not win blue ribbons at quilt shows because of it. Blue is not my color anyway.  Dips and dingles are part of the charm of moving the fabric around.

I say go for it. Start. Practice. Walk away from those pre-programmed stitch patterns. Dream stitchlines. Nysha will help.

embroidered story

Earlier this year I was going through some family photos and found a wonderful shot of my grandmother and her three sisters. When I scanned it in and added it to my iphoto library the face recognition function identified each of these ladies as "unamed". And the software was right. They were unknown quantities in my family history. My grandmother, Babi, shown here at the far left, emigrated to the US from the Czech Republic in the 20s. Her three sisters stayed in their home country.

So I never knew them. Or named them. In fact, I didn't really know much about my grandmother. She spoke English with difficulty, made the best dumplings and apple strudel this side of Mars and lived in Cicero, a couple blocks from Al Capone's headquarters. I remember walking up to the second floor of her brownstone building with the smell of pork, dumplings and sauerkraut wafting toward us. She had a walk-in closet that smelled of varnished wood and bath powder. And an attic that hosted many a broom-sword fight with my brothers.

I love that these ladies are all wearing white shoes. Their dresses look like they all came from the same store.

I love that these ladies are all wearing white shoes. Their dresses look like they all came from the same store.

She didn't talk about her sisters or her life before America. In fact she didn't talk much at all.

But she did go back occasionally and the family photos show these four women hand in hand through 50 years. They shared stories, played cards and worked on their gardens together. I have one photo where a couple of them are relaxing in a haystack. I wonder about those stories and gardens now. Now that it is too late to get the juicy details. It's clear that they loved each other and the bonds were strong.

I've been working on a piece featuring this image since then as a way to explore embroidery stitches. I'm calling it The Grass was Greener. Spending a little more time than usual with four strong Czech women seems worth it.