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.
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!
Ben and friends went on a birding adventure. As is often the case, they ended up in the countryside. Ben is not a stranger to pastures and their inhabitants, but he was glad he had his camera to take this photo – this cow was not a breed he recognized.
When I saw the photo, I was entranced, too. Ben gave me permission to play with his image on fabric. At my request, he sent me a current self portrait to use, too.
When I’m working on art quilts, I try to channel my inner child – to remember that “it’s supposed to be fun.” I think I nailed it this time!
I printed the photo on fabric and added batting and stitching to give the cow dimension. I pieced sky (a bit of some old linen I had overdyed with indigo) and ground fabric. On a recent antiquing tirp (probably the day Ben was finding the cow) I had found an old pin shaped like a windmill. So I added a windmill, quilted some clouds, and had an art quilt.
I ended up with a new quilt attached to a bit of an old quilt. That’s not new for me. But this time I added pages between those two layers. This little girl had a blast!
I know a picture is worth a thousand words, but Ben uses words to tell really fun stories; so I thought words were important, too. The cow’s quote is from Ben.
The piece is layered in more ways than just the physical, which is obvious. Ben and I first met as math colleagues. When I needed a back for the cow in pasture layer, the numbers fabric jumped off the shelf and said, “use me!”.
The outer dimensions of the whole assembly are 14” x 20” .
Emma Sue Emerson was born in 1930. No, her parents did not give her that rhythmic name. She was born Emma Sue Whittle, marrying Bob Emerson at age 20.
Bob and Emma didn’t have any children, but they would have been wonderful parents. They gave of themselves to nieces and nephews and to the community as a whole. Emma never worked outside the home much; in those days women weren’t expected to have a career. Oh, she substituted at the grammar school when they needed her, sold a little Avon, and she sang in the choir at church.
Emma and Bob had seventeen nieces and nephews. Emma spent some time working on items to fill the nieces’ hope chests. She embroidered linens, tatted edging for pillowcases, made some baby clothes when a new generation came along.
An accident at the canning plant in the early 1970’s left Emma’s right hand with some nerve damage and she could no longer execute the fine stitches needed for some embroidery. She learned to write with her left hand and didn’t miss a beat with other day-to-day activities. Those hope chests of the youngest nieces were filled with unadorned sheets and pillowcases (with neat hems done on the sewing machine), and copies of recipes handed down through the years.
An assortment of treasures from Emma Sue’s sewing basket came into my possession and I collaged them together to tell Emma’s story.
A bit of a stained and unfinished dresser scarf, a remnant of barkcloth (from draperies in the 1950’s), some lace, a tab from a linen shirt, and a collection of buttons reveal elements of Emma’s life. A corner of one of her pocket hankies is held in place by a belt buckle from her sewing basket. A large hook and eye like those used to fasten coats was included, too.
I wove a base from strips of cotton – some of which were in the basket, others I added from similar fabrics. I attached it all to a bit of an old grain sack to give it a firm base, then used a quilt remnant to provide a backing and frame. The dimensions of the finished piece are 16″ x 26″.
I hope the wall hanging will trigger fond memories of Emma Sue when viewed by those who knew her. I love it when pleasant memories are not packed away in a box.
Especially since writing 52 Tuesdays, I’ve encouraged people to preserve their history, to save the family stories for future generations. Several people have told me that they decided to make a journal quilt similar to mine; others have said they were motivated to start keeping a written record of their days. Both ideas thrill me – to know that my words inspired someone to record and share their stories.
But I’ve realized that I haven’t done enough to preserve my own stories, especially those of my childhood. Late in 2019, I began doing just that. The writing project that ensued might be the reason you saw fewer blog posts. The level of sharing is different when it’s being written for future generations and for strangers on the internet – I found it hard to switch gears.
But write personal stories and memories I did. My daughter DJ had asked that I record family memories in my own handwriting. I did some of that, but my arthritic hands and wrists rebelled. And I’ve become accustomed to writing on a computer where editing is easier and later searchable; making it easier to answer the question, “Have I told this already?”
So the book I created included both handwritten and typed stories. I used a notebook system where I could rearrange pages as thoughts did not come in a chronological order. Too, I could add my own papers with photos or drawings, and use pages of different sizes.
The photos you see are a few of the interior pages where you get the idea. I had quite a large extended family of aunts and uncles and cousins. I printed a page with photos for each group and a chart that included family names. That helps whatever subsequent generation is reading it to get relationships more clearly, I think. Between those full sheets (8 1/2” x 11”) showing the family breakdown, I inserted smaller pages with stories.
I continue to think of stories to share. Now it’s a simple matter of writing them and inserting them in the book. This is the gift that keeps on giving. I see a need to add more photos, drawings, maps.
There are pages where Jim wrote stories about his childhood, too
It’s a given that any memory of mine is associated with fabric. So the cover of the book is a collage of textile memories: a lace dress my mother wore, a couple of dresses she made for me, a bit of silk from a dress she received as a child. There’s part of a nail apron from my Daddy’s favorite hardware store, a pocket from a pair of his overalls, a bit of my Grandmother’s apron. Remnants of clothing worn by my sister, me, Jim, and DJ herself are there, too.
I gave this album to DJ at Christmas. It was well received and I’m relieved! I’m relieved that this project is no longer a secret. She has been doing some family research on Ancestry and has a lot of questions – some of which were hard to answer without revealing that I was on a quest, too. Now the charts from Ancestry and the photos and stories from my parents’ albums can work together to solve some mysteries.
I recently had to buy a new one of these. If you sew, you recognize this as a seam ripper. We all use them to rip out mistakes, but I’ve lately been using one a lot – to deconstruct some garments.
I came into possession of some old sewing paraphernalia and vintage clothing in our family. I sorted and washed and cut apart and added the bits to my stash. Most deconstruction is done with scissors and a rotary cutter, but button removal is most easily done with a seam ripper. There were lots of buttons. There was some delicate lace edging to remove with a seam ripper, too.
The seamstress wasn’t a quilter, but she had some unfinished projects. The yellow at the top of this photo is a little girl’s dress – almost finished – only the lace to add down the front. Maybe buttonholes were needed. Maybe the little girl decided she didn’t like yellow, maybe she outgrew the size of the pattern.
There was yardage of the navy fabric on the right in the photo above. From the shapes of the fabric that wasn’t used, I knew an apron had been made from that fabric.
In the bundles, there was fabric that was wool, rayon, cotton, silk; of course I am anxious to dip some of these in the dye pot. In the interest of research and because I like to do such things, I wanted a record of what fabrics were made of which fiber.
Also on my “want-to-explore” list is making books with fabric. I’ve done some of that, but for this one, I started with a paper booklet and stitched the fabric swatches on the paper, leaving room to add written notes.
There were also some patterns and what looks to be a template cut from a 1956 newspaper. Some of these treasures will end up in art projects of mine. For now, bits of all of them are in this project, the booklet.
I left room to add swatches of the fabrics once they are dipped in the indigo bath, and as I continue to dig through the treasure chest, more embellishments can fill some spaces.
