I recently promised more images of things from the indigo dye pot. I love them all, but perhaps my favorite is the old embroidered tea towel you see above. I bought this tattered piece at an antique store, and though the stitching is lovely, it was a bit pale, as you see in the next image.
The beauty of buying a towel with stitching at both ends is that I can play with one and save the other, so I at least have one intact bit of stitch with history to use. So I ripped it apart, and dipped one in the dye pot. Oh, my. Isn’t it lovely? Yes, now I know the other end just might go for a swim, too.
Here are more results from those recent days of dyeing.
a pile of linens fresh from the dryer
A beekeeper’s garden toile from a bargain bin is now happier in my stash – it’s blue!
some handwoven linen from Belgium overdyed…great for tea towels, placemats, who knows?
A bit of old barkcloth curtains is now brown and blue…my favorite combination!
And the blue roses I shared last week…they still thrill me. Here they are on a different background.
On an antiquing trip before the stay-at-home life began, I bought some old fabric flowers. I had been experimenting with making my own fabric flowers (which I wrote about here), so I thought this bouquet would allow me to examine someone else’s construction techniques.
The roses were dirty – stained and discolored. But at $1, I didn’t mind that.
Last week I chose to spend a few of the last hot days of the year playing in the indigo dye bath. One of the pieces that I dipped was this bunch of roses. Aren’t they nice?
I dipped other things, too. This shot of two lace coasters shows the difference in one dip in the dye and two. This shot on the wooden table could have been part of the last post on Blue and Brown.
A vintage crocheted tablecloth went for a blue swim, too.
I love blues and browns and I especially love them together!
Mother Nature loves blues that go to brown, too. Look at this hydragangea in different stages of its blooming life this summer. The final brown bloom hanging on is just as beautiful to me as the most cobalt of blues!
I recently made a slow stitched study in blues and browns.
It started when I made this notebook cover as a gift. The colors were so rich and entrancing that I wanted to use the leftover bits in another project.
The linen background came from some yardage a friend brought to our quilt guild from her mother’s stash. The mother was downsizing and moving – we benefited from the clean out!
The bits of blues and neutrals were from my collection of old and new bits of fabric and lace.
The hexagons led to a bee theme of sorts.
I experimented with various weights and colors of thread, added beads and buttons.
This format, the rolled up collage, is a favorite of mine. I used a thin layer of batting under the brown linen while doing all the stiching. For a backing to cover the messy seed stitching, I added a bit of an indigo overdyed linen sheet. I attached this with a tiny seed stitch with a fine thread; going only through the layer of blue and the batting.
Today is our 226th day of social distancing. It’s October 18, the 292nd day of 2020. (I’m keeping track of those things for part of my journal quilt for 2020.) We still have Queen Anne’s Lace blooming in our yard!
As I’ve shared before, I’m sending a photo to “the girls” each morning, letting the next generation of our family know that the old folks are up and at ‘em each morning; all is well. I have an album on my laptop containing these nature photos. There are daylilies, geraniums, clematis, roses, lots of wildflowers; there are rabbits and deer and mushrooms, too.
One plant stands out as being ever-present. Queen Anne’s Lace. I truly love this plant…we’ve had patches of it in the yard every year since we moved here nine years ago… but this year there are more patches and they have been blooming constantly since mid-May.
I love photographing these specimens from all angles, and I especially love the cage that forms as the flowers go to seed. I’ve collected these seeds and scattered some already, hoping that in the future, wild carrots will be EVERYWHERE!
And, in the winter, I’ll still have some…these made with needle and thread.
Yes, I’ve been sewing in this safe-at-home time. I’ve been busy finishing old abandoned projects as well as exploring new ones.
One of the new things I’ve done is this piece I called Dots and Vines. Inspired by my grandmother’s quilt on this table in our den, I assembled many many circles appliqued on squares.
Ollie Jane’s quilt lives on this table most of the year and I continually look at it and think, what a powerful design. I ought to recreate it. Finally, I did.
Though it doesn’t look much like her work (nor much like mine, for that matter – it’s rather modern, don’t you think?), it’s another example of stitching that reflects the love of cloth through generations; a tale that never grows old.
I chose to use Cherrywood handdyed fabrics. The circles are 1” in diameter, the squares finish at 3”. I spent many morning hours on the porch stitching these, and many more hours doing the same at night in front of the tv. Many hours of delicious time thinking and soothing the soul while pulling a threaded needle through cloth.
There were days when the finished blocks danced all around my design wall, trying to find the right arrangement of color. Here you see them with several fabrics I considered using as borders.
But the final arrangement has no border. A nice stripe from Kaffe Fassett’s collection as binding seemed to bring enough closure.
I knew the entire time that I wanted to quilt a meandering vine from variegated thread, so that’s the rest of the title, Dots and Vines, a bit of homage to a book I came to love in college math classes, The Dot and the Line. I considered August 12, 2020 as its title – that’s the day I finished the quilt and it just happened to be the 225th day of this calendar year. But that title requires too much explanation in casual conversation, so Dots and Vines it is.
I made many more circle blocks that are waiting another use. But the 225 that I chose means I have a 45” square finished piece. I like that size. It’s good to drape over a chair, take along on a photo ride-about, or use as a table topper.
I continue to stay busy with a variety of things, including nature photography. But most things are connected to fiber in some way. Don’t you think it would be interesting to make a textile version of these mushrooms? I see red thread here.
More about my grandmother’s quilts can be found here and here. Enter “Ollie Jane” in the search box for even more.
Friends I encounter many days on my morning walks.
During the five months that we’ve been staying at home, I’ve had time to explore new things.
A zebra longwing in our front yard.
I’ve used my camera a lot, learning more about it, and even adding to the equipment inventory. When we first learned that we were elderly and in the high risk group for Covid-19, I started sendng a morning photo greeting to our girls via text message. Just a pretty way to say to them, “the old folks are fine,” so they could get on with their day without worrying about us. I used my phone at first, learning new photo and editing capabilities.
Then there were things the phone didn’t capture as well as I wanted, so I pulled out the digital mirrorless camera and learned more about it.
We have several rabbits in our yard this year. So far, we’ve only SEEN them eating grass, but a few other plants have been mysteriously pruned.
When I needed a faster lens, or more “reach” for some of my subjects, I needed a better zoom lens.
A woodland sunflower captured on a visit to Piedmont National Wildlife Refuge.
Looking through the lens of a camera changes things. I’m not much of a gardener, but I needed to know the names of the plants I was photographing – because at least one of three recipients of these messages would ask. And, distractions in the background weren’t good, so I pulled more weeds than I ever have before. Who knew that such a simple act was so transformative?
A drawstring bag incorporating a bit of vintage embroidery and hand-dyed indigo linen.
Simple things are transformative in the sewing room, too. I’ve used this time at home to explore more stitching opportunities, too. I’ve finished several traditonal UFOs (and now I realize I need to photograph those), explored ways to include vintage linens in different projects, and reread many of the quilting books on my shelves.
Exploring more uses of ink on fabric inspired by Pam Holland’s draplique tutorial.
Though I could have done all this at any time, there’s something about not having plans to go anywhere, not having deadlines to meet, that is liberating. I do miss seeing my quilting friends at guild and I miss teaching classes, but without those obligations, I’m enjoying researching new aspects of my own creativity.
A fabric flower adorns a notebook cover made from vintage linen fabric. I secured all layers using a double seed stitch to add texture. This new-to-me stitch is a fun one I will use again!
The day was sunny and clear – perfect for a big thick quilt to dry on the lawn. So I gathered some old ones that had been waiting for an outing and draped them on the fence to air.
This pattern is called Chain and Bar, according to Jenny Beyer’s Album of Patchwork Patterns, designed by Clara Stone, published in Practical Needlework, ca. 1906.
These are specimens from Jim’s family. Two grandmothers made quilts in styles distinctive enough that he and his sister can specify the household from which they came. But they don’t always know which generation the maker was from.
Most are tattered and need repair before they can be washed. But what treasures they are, and what stories they tell.
My research tells me this block is a variation of a Cogwheel block. I find a similar block published in 1931. These compass style blocks take on many forms as each “ring” can be combined with portions of other similar blocks.
One grandmother’s quilts are heavier than the other’s. Granny used a thinner cotton batting than Grandmama did. They may have processed both at home, or one used ginned cotton while the other used some straight from the fields.
Some of the fabrics are delicious and vibrant colors, others have faded to be unrecognizable, still others have disintegrated completely.
I personally love the backs of these old quilts, too. Homespun cotton on every one – and, interestingly, in many cases that fabric has NOT disintegrated.
I am in the process of repairing these pieces of history so that they can travel on through the generations. Sometimes that means more labor intensive work than others, but it’s a joy to join these women’s work with my own stitches.
I am adding a label to each quilt that tells what we know of their history and maker – but the fabrics and stitches tell a story, too. The rust circles on the back of this one tells me that this quilt lay under a mattress at sometime, against bare bedsprings.
And, the one quilt that was ready to wash is now drying between two layers of cotton sheets on the grass – the bottom sheet to protect it from grass stains, the top sheet to protect it from birds flying over.
Tawanda made an appearance in my last post. I referred to her as my outdoor spirit doll. Now she’s an element of an art quilt.
We’ve been sheltering in place now for several weeks with no antiquing adventures to replenish my stash. But, oh, how my collection has grown.
Since friends are at home, they’ve been cleaning closets and drawers and I’m reaping the rewards. One day the mailman brought a box from Alabama. Susan had sent a box of tea towels, doilies, and dresser scarves her grandmother had passed along to her. She kept the one she and her daughters would use, but sent others to me.
This hankie’s image looks like the clematis blooming on our fence.
A friend is moving to another city and won’t be taking everything she has acquired over the years. She thought I could use a collection of women’s hankies. Oh, yes, indeed, I can.
This pile of blue from the fabric samples made my heart skip a few beats.
And Helen had a box of discarded drapery and upholstery samples. Silk, linen, cotton, and wool. Yes, wool. I was amazed, too. Lovely, lightweight, sheer wool. I can’t wait to see how that behaves in the dye pot.
More drapery samples sorted by color…inspiration for a red quilt, I think.
And Joyce, a new friend who was at the last guild where I lectured has a box waiting for me filled with beautiful linens. She no longer quilts, having moved on to a new focus in sewing, but has acquired beautiful pieces. Once Joyce’s friends saw that she could give new life to their linens stored away in hiding, they shared with her. “More than I can use in my lifetime,” she says. So she is sharing with me. Now that’s something to look forward to when this stay home order is lifted – a drive to collect that box!
Garden Dance celebrates Tawanda’s exuberance with Spring and all the treasures I described. I sketched her image, transferred it to fabric, then collaged bits of embroidery from one of those silk samples I mentioned, vintage crochet, some recycled denim clothing. A few buttons, and a lot of hand stitching brought it all together. That pop of color at the top right is a piece of trim I bought in Paducah one year. It was a dusty bolt of unused drapery trim, stained and hopeless looking – and containing some polyester, I’m sure. But for some reason it spoke to me; maybe the many, many yards of something for little money. But it loves new color. I’ve painted some of it and the bit you see here has taken a dive in the indigo dye pot.
Tawanda is a sculpture made of rebar and cement and she’s nearly 20 years old. She was one of those purchases that I thought, “I shouldn’t spend this much money on yard art, but I really want to take her home with me.” She was at a local garden center and I think I saw her dancing there on a couple of visits before I succombed to her charms.
As is often the case, I used an old quilt remnant as the base for this collage. Notice the patch some previous owner had made – I was thrilled that I found a place to include it.
She has brought a smile to my face on countless days over these years and I’ve never regretted that expenditure. It seemed it was time to memorialize her in a quilt.
Her name, Tawanda, comes from the movie Fried Green Tomatoes. if you are familiar with the characters in that production, you understand.
The quilt finishes at 12″ x 16″. Here you see the label attached to the “front” of the old quilt which is now the backside of Garden Dance. The faded homespun backing is one of my oft-used vintage backgrounds. I wonder if the woman who made this scrappy quilt years and years ago would approve of my use of her work. If she was a Tawanda herself, I think she would say, “You go, girl!”
I’ve been busy in recent days, but at first it seemed self-serving somehow to share my fun. You see, I love staying home and creating; so doing that is not much of a sacrifice to me. But at a time when others are compelled to stay put, whether for their own health or for the common good, and find it stressful, I thought it might be impolite to seem happy about it.
Social media tells me that the ones I know who are getting though this time of uncertainty most peacefully are those who stitch. That’s not news to me – that stitching soothes the soul. Others who sew (or knit, or paint, or draw, or build things) know the peace that comes with using your hands.
One of my favorite haunts is this booth at The Cotton Depot in Monroe, GA
Yes, I do miss going to antique stores and other venues where I get inspiration (and I miss eating the occasional meal without cooking, too). But, since I can’t do those things, I will enjoy the time to do what I can.
So here’s a summary of my recent days.
I first cleaned my sewing closet. The last big group meeting I attended was March 3 when I gave a program at a nearby quilt guild and taught a Stitch a Story class (techniques for textile collage). All those samples and supplies had to be put away and the suitcase refreshed for the next class. That next class has been postponed, but I am prepared.
Preparing for a class like that means pulling out elements from my stash, and I do that with abandon. So afterwards, the bonus room in our house (my sewing closet, I call it) over the garage, needs a lot of straightening. I did that with joy. Re-organizing and neatly placing fabrics and trims is a labor of love. Discovering forgotten treasures is part of the process.
I continue working on art quilts, and I’ve added a new passion: fabric flowers. The techiques and combinations of embellishments make for seemingly infinite possibilities. I keep a basket of supplies on hand when an idea strikes for a new approach.
I usually like to “do my own thing” these days, but a kit from Maggie Bonanomi was the perfect project for a few nights in front of tv. The bunny is now ready for gardening at our house.
And, speaking of gardening, Jim and I had created a new path through our woods in the past winter. Warmer temperatures inspired us to burn collected sticks and debris in evening fires in our firepit. Every day the walk on the trail leads us to new discoveries – most notably trilliums – on our property.
We delight in “surveying the plantation,” checking to see which plants have leafed out, which are still waiting to be sure frost is gone. It’s a thrill to see the first bloom on the Spiderwort (Tradescantia), the geranium that was protected all winter showing its color.
Quiet days now are spent reading and sewing. We watch little tv, but love old westerns. We watched an old episode of Gunsmoke yesterday where Doc had a couple of cholera patients. At the end of the episode, we remarked that “they didn’t mention quarantining Miss Kitty or anyone else.” We probably would not have noticed that in the past.
Tawanda is my outdoor spirit doll. She reminds me to be happy year round – but she is especially right about the garden these days as plants are coming to life (including the indigo).
So I guess you could say my quarantine days are spent in art therapy and dirt therapy. I hope yours are, too. And, I hope at the end of this we have all learned something about a kinder and gentler way to live, without so much hustle and bustle. May we all be safe.
Jane and Susie were not just cousins. They were first cousins. They were not just first cousins, they were double-first cousins.
Their mothers were sisters, their daddies were brothers. They were two years apart in age, and shared not only all their relatives, more than the average common DNA, but many experiences. This early photo (about 1940) conveys the closeness they shared.
This photo was taken at the home of their paternal grandparents. Many family photos were set on this porch, on these steps, actually. Imagine a Sunday afternoon after church, adults visiting on the porch; maybe other cousins playing in the yard, neighbors dropping by. These two almost sisters (later, they would have other siblings, but not yet), forging a lifelong bond.
I printed the photo on vintage linen, and added red French knots as buttons on Jane’s dress. The bow in her hair is a found earring.
Layering the photo on wool batting before densely quilting the background adds dimension to the girls. The oval “mat” is a vintage linen embroidered placemat layered on commercial quilting fabric. Beneath all this assembly is a layer of thin cotton batting. Shells (repurposed from an old necklace found in a thrift store) were attached using red seed beads to anchor them. I hand quilted all the layers together using a seed stitch with tatting thread. This thread is a new discovery for me (found in a bag of sewing supplies from an estate sale). I’ve never tatted nor made lace, but the size 80 cotton thread created for these crafts is perfect for a lot of the hand stitching I do.
Note to quilters: that seed stitch leaves a messy backside, so when I use it, I don’t have the final backing on the quilt. I attached another layer, the piece with red cross stitch on it, using the invisible baste stitch I learned from Jude Hill. That’s really a seed stitch, too, with just a dot of thread showing on the top, the longer stitch on the “back” nestled in the batting, not coming through to the other side.
That backing with red stitching is a section of an old tablecloth. I found it on an antiquing plunder and was drawn to the cross stitch, of course. The tablecloth has some stains and had a hole in it – making it less than desirable as a tablecloth. But I rescued it and put it to work. It’s very desirable as a component of art quilts!
