Honouring Christine

 I'm sorry for my recent silence. it has been a busy several months and I always find that winter saps my creative energy. In the intervening time I have been involved with a group of Studio 11 folk, all of whom are missing Christine, the Studio and that sense of fellowship which came with it. She truly achieved what she set out to do all those years ago.

We felt we would like to do something to honour her in some way and, after several ideas were mooted, we have fixed on creating a book in memory of her. Each of us are stitching patchworking or weaving something which embodies the creative freedom and teaching she gave us. Each piece, no larger than 8 inches each way, will be attached to a page of khadi paper: those pages will be assembled into a book in honour of her. We are entering it into the "Quilt Creations" section in Festival of Quilts this year, where it will be displayed. There should also be a link with either the retrospective gallery of her work (do come and see it if you are going to FOQ), or the Creative Textiles Studio where Christine was a regular tutor. 

Following that we have agreed that the book will be given to Christine's family as a lasting memorial to her and as an expression of our gratitude for all that she gave us.

I thought and thought about what I wanted to do. In the end I felt the most fitting tribute would be to use some of the fabrics I dyed in the very first course I did with her; "Tie Dye Mini Quilt", way back in 2012 when she first opened the studio. I had no idea what a wonderful journey she was going to encourage me in, and I have valued every minute I spent in the studio since.

I am calling this "Moonflowers" and have kept it very simple. Minimal stitching enhances what is already there, and I have so enjoyed creating this; Christine's voice in my ear encouraging me and memories of her wisdom and bright heart pulling us all forward in our creative journeys.

I hope it will be a fitting addition to this book which will enclose our creativity and be a memorial to Christine's inspiring teaching.

Ditchling Shibori

I had the most delightful time, last weekend, at Ditchling Museum of Art and Craft taking a course in shibori and indigo with Rob Jones of Romor Designs. 

It was a beautiful day, cloudy and cool first thing so Ditchling felt slightly mysterious, textures almost more apparent because of the lack of shadows.

Nestled in the South Downs, I have been meaning to visit the Museum for years, but never managed it. You go swooping carefully from the top of the Downs, down and further down through green fields, hedgerows, trees and a scattering of slightly alarming bends in the road. Textures of flint and blowing grass; stone and time; taste of blackberry.

The day spent with Rob and my fellow classmates, stitching, binding, dipping and timing was quite delightful. We used strong thread as we tied objects into the fabric, or pulled up points to wrap, then bound tightly; we stitched careful rows, and drew up the thread; fabric was creased or folded. All this activity provided seven little bundles, the pressure from the bindings acting as a resist to the dye. These we dipped in the indigo vats Rob had prepared. He managed the sequence of the day so that we had stitching sessions, followed by dipping in the morning and afternoon. My gloves came home the most wonderful colour, I can't bear to wash it off! 

There was a definite process for dipping our bundles; in for four minutes, rest for ten, but timings became a little haphazard, laughter was heard. I think some of mine might have had four or possibly five dips in the vat, but I really did lose count. Rob sometimes dips up to twelve times to achieve a deep rich dark indigo. All sorts of things are possible, and regular readers will know I've enjoyed adventures with shibori in the past. However combining the lovely focus of binding and stitching, with the fun of multiple hands waving their bound bundles under the surface of the indigo vat made for a highly enjoyable day. 

Seven little bits of fabric to play with.

The following day I sat in my sunny garden to unwrap my bundles and see what magic had happened. The fun of rinsing and unpicking, careful snippings of taut thread. The initial depth of shade can be misleading; loose dye will wash out, dry fabric is always lighter in shade than wet.

Sometimes you can just pop the binding off the very end off with a bit of a gentle tug

The fun of unfolding floppy wet fabric once the stitching has come out! 

After washing and drying, you'll see here that the blue is much paler. This does allow for the subtleties of the dye absorption to show themselves a bit more.

I so enjoy the whole process of shibori, there is a meditativeness about the stitching and, with indigo, the repeated dipping. In contrast to Procion dyeing, those multiple timed dips in the vat add a further level of process and of control which appeals to me. I am very happy with what I achieved there, happy with the extra things I learned, ideas I explored, and very happy too, to re engage with my textile mojo. 

But behind the joy, in counterpoint, comes sadness that Christine is no longer here to share the adventure. I am so glad I can still hear her delighted voice when something appealed to her (as it often did) tucked away in my memories.

A book of pages

Some weeks ago I prepared a variety of papers with the intention of making a book, then the Festival of Quilts intervened and those papers have been sitting in my sewing room ever since. Yesterday I thought it was time to do something with them. After much research online into book assembly, and many distracting rabbit holes, I finally decided that I would make up four signatures and sew them into a soft fabric cover of some sort. Yesterday was spent folding pages, looking for suitable fabric for the cover, the aforementioned research and generally planning it all out.

Each signature, folded to A5 size, has some khadi paper, cartridge paper and one sheet of watercolour paper so there is some variety to work into.

They have been stitched down the centre with pamphlet stitch, which seemed the simplest option, and one I have used before on a smaller book. It is great fun folding everything together, then punching holes through all those layers with a bookbinder's awl. Those holes also had to be punched into the spine, in four rows with the same spacing, so I could insert each signature. 

The cover comprises some flexible pelmet Vilene with a piece of tray dyed fabric I did many, many moons ago in Studio 11, when I was still learning all the various techniques Christine taught us for getting colour onto cloth. I have used the brightest bit on the outside of the cover, and a quieter piece on the inside. They are layered together with Bondaweb so the fabric doesn't buckle when handled.

I did some very sketchy machine embroidery through all three layers, doing my best to echo the pattern on the outside. 

On the inside the lines of stitch seem more random, as they are following the pattern on the outside. Because of this, I used a quieter thread in the bobbin so they are less visible, but I still quite like the effect. 

The book is closed with a tie made from three strips of silk ribbon, chain stitched to form a loop at the start, then plaited to create the wraparound tie.

I left the soft torn edges of the fabric, as I love the frayed texture.

All in all I'm rather pleased with this, as I was really making it all up as I went along, learning along the way, which is what life is for I always think. I'm also very happy to have found a use for at least one of the many bits of fabric I have stored away.

I hope you have had a creative weekend

Remembering and Honouring

This is a hard post to write. If you look at my "word cloud" you will see Christine Chester's name shining large because I have mentioned her so very many times as my source of inspiration and textile education. I first met her when I did the Tie Dye Mini Quilt Course at Studio 11 when she first opened it back in 2012. I was the only participant, and it was the start of 11 years of inspiration, experimentation, laughter and friendship as the Studio 11 community grew. 

Last month this dear soul; friend, teacher and incredibly talented and thoughtful textile artist died after a courageous battle with cancer. We, her friends and students, joined her family last week to say goodbye to her and to celebrate all she had given to us over the years. 

Christine created a vibrant community of like minded folk centered on Studio 11. She gave of her time and skill so generously as our teacher, and also scheduled regular textile "Re-treats" where other textile artists came to share their skills and inspirations with us. In 2019, when she faced the challenge of losing the Studio because the rent had risen beyond her ability to pay, she simply packed everything up and relocated to her basement flat, rearranging her own life to prioritise her creative endeavour and, of course, source of income. I deeply admired her fortitude and refusal to give in to this difficult circumstance. Then Covid19 hit, another challenge, which she rose to by devising a series of Zoom classes which we could all do at home. This carried us through the pandemic in an incredibly supportive way, keeping our creative ideas flowing with courses on transparent fabrics, a "potato chip quilt" and Poetry of Stitch, exploring stitch as a mark making and expressive tool. Zoom also allowed her to host folk from further afield, extending the reach of her teaching beyond the south coast. In mid 2021 she found another real life studio for us to come to, and we were once more able to meet face to face, enjoy each other's company and share our creative endeavours. The new studio was a lovely airy space in an old building once used by the Plymouth Brethren as a meeting house. It was a beautiful place in which to learn; full of light, vibrant with colour and music, peppered with laughter as we, her students, were joined with her again in one place. Sadly, with her death it will close and become once more an anonymous old building on a small street in Eastbourne.

You may remember that in May 2021 she reconnected me with a cushion that had belonged to Ganna, through a piece of total serendipity. It has taken a back seat over the past few years due to other projects taking my time. I have now returned to it, and with each stitch I am connected in my heart with both my beloved grandmother, and with Christine. She used to say to me that I shouldn't feel guilty about not finishing things, if the inspiration to start them had fled. I store those words carefully in my heart as a quiet wisdom. But this project will be finished, with daily stitch, in honour of her and all she gave to me and to my fellow Studio 11 members. We gained so much from here, and do not know what we will do without her.

Uzbekistan crafty update

I don't seem to have talked about the lovely English Paper Piecing project that Karin Hellaby designed for us to work while on our holiday in Uzbekistan last year, which is rather remiss of me. She brought with her a kit for each of us with fabric from the wonderful Oakshott Fabrics. Their shot cottons are a delight to work with, I have two collections sitting in my sewing room waiting for me to feel confident enough to turn them into "something". Karin's design was inspired by the lovely colours and star motifs that we saw in tilework, woodwork and ceilings all across the country.

We had several stitch sessions with her where she talked us through how to cut and piece the individual elements, then applique our star onto the background fabric. These took place in this delightful room in the hotel we stayed at in Bukhara. This was also where we had breakfast each day we were there.

Most of us hadn't finished the project by the time we came home, but several members of the group got theirs done some time ago. Mine was almost there, but had joined the ever increasing collection of "things I really should finish soon". Then I was delighted to find my work featured in a post on the Oakshott Fabrics' Instagram about Karin's travels so thought I'd better finish it.

I had done all the piecing and applique,

worked some embroidery in Bokhara couching; the green triangles echoing the central green hexagon; and some small chain stitch motifs, based on design elements we had seen there. I added a scattering of beads and sequins 

I have at last assembled it into a cushion which sits extremely comfortably in Ganna's wickerback chair in my study

I am so pleased with this: each time I pass my study door, which sits open, I catch sight of it and am briefly transported back to the beautiful things I saw in Uzbekistan.

Stitch in Japan

The three highlights of my Japan trip were the indigo dyeing, the gardens and, of course, stitch. We had three stitch experiences; one a workshop with the Japanese quilt artist Noriko Endo, then two visits; one to the magical sashiko museum, tucked away on the mountains to the west of Tokyo and another to the Museum of Quilt Art in Izumo. 

I will start with Noriko Endo, a renowned quilter who is famous for her confetti technique, creating quilt pictures which she calls Impressionist Quilts. These grew from her pondering how to make use of all those little bits of fabric that are the result of traditional quilting, too small to be used elsewhere. We were honoured to take part in a workshop led by her, and I came home with a partially finished picture which bears a vague resemblance to what I was trying to achieve, but entirely without the delicacy of colouring and stitch which her quilts embody.

Here she is showing how she builds up her images using layer upon layer of finely chopped pieces of coloured cloth. Her technique in creating her confetti pieces with narrow strips of fabric and a rotary cutter was amazing to watch, but one felt the need for steel finger tips when trying it out!

Her studio was full of examples of her quilts, which were very reminiscent of the impressionist movement, but with her own Japanese aesthetic and feeling for landscape.

Once we had been shown both her work and how she achieved it, we all sat down at a table where our backing fabric, some wadding, a piece of black fabric, some black net, and our tools were artistically laid out. Great bags of fabric strips separated into colour families awaited us and we gathered bits together and got to work with the cutter, chopping, sprinkling, and layering (keeping fingers out of the way!)

Her assistants were there to help us with the background: little bits of fabric scattered; greens browns and golds for trees; a smattering of ochre and grey for a path running slantways across the middle and more green for grass in front of the path. Once that was achieved a layer of fine black net was laid over the background and we were shown how to cut the piece of black fabric into an approximation of tree trunks and branches. These were positioned on the composition, then Noriko came around with her "little posts of magic": small tubs with very finely chopped scraps of purple, green, orange and black. These were applied by her, and another layer of fine black net pinned carefully down over the whole. Then we stitched the entire piece with invisible thread and a wriggling, meandering vermicelli'ish pattern to immobilise the various bits of fabric beneath their layers of net. The final stage, not completed on the day, is to use machine embroidery to add the shaping and highlights on the boles of the trees so that they look 3D and are blended into the image. 

Here you can see how it should be done

My effort, unfinished, is rather dark and mysterious, but I am hoping that a bit of machine embroidery on the trunks and perhaps some more greens and golds with stitch will bring it slightly closer to a viable image!

A close up of the anchoring stitches

At the end of the workshop we were all pretty happy with what we had managed as compete novices. There was much shoulder rolling, finger wriggling and easing out of kinked necks before, bowing our thanks to our delightful host and her assistants, we took our leave.

The following day we drove out of Tokyo and up into the mountains to visit the sashiko studio of Ginza Akie. Crossing the red bridge we found ourselves in a magical space, surrounded by trees, green growth and early spring blossom. 

Here we were treated to a tour of the museum, crammed full of displays of the most beautiful sashiko stitching on wall hangings, cushions, door curtains and garments. We also watched a video about her life, which told us how, after the breakdown of her marriage, she had used all her courage, resourcefulness and hard work to build up a business reviving the art of sashiko, updating it for the times she was living in and teaching others the skill. 

The sashiko displays were up in some steep stairs in a wonderful warren of little rooms and corridors with steps up and down and dead ends. The main rooms on the ground floor were just as mysterious, with subdued lighting and walls and shelves full of the most fascinating collection of objects she has amassed over a long life. 

She was an extraordinary tiny little bird of a woman, with soft grey hair piled on top of her head and a very shrewd gaze, as you can see if you pop over to her Instagram feed here, where you will find more images of her sashiko.

The following day we had journeyed south from Tokyo to Izumo, where we visited the Quilt Museum, nestled in a patchwork of green fields, with the distant mountains a blue ripple on the horizon. 

The museum houses the stunning quilts of Mutsuko Yawatagaki. The displays are changed to reflect the seasons and each quilt embodies a mastery of colour, stitch and design all brought together into one softly shimmering whole. She constructs them from vintage kimono silks. Her detailed piecing and placement of colours results in a delicately nuanced imagery. This is enhanced by subtle quilting which draws the eye around the whole. We were asked not to take photos within the house, so I can only show you the garden and surroundings, but a quick search on Google wil bring you lots of images of her beautiful quilts. 

At the end of our tour we were seated and offered green tea and delicious (though very sweet) little cakes all laid out with the customary Japanese attention to beautiful presentation.

It was a refreshing end to a wonderful afternoon's textile pleasure.