Dorset Buttons On Hardanger

Day 12: Murphy got a real workout as far as the hardanger was concerned on this piece. I wanted something fairly simple on which to display a variety of Dorset buttons. It should have been a piece of cake, but I think I made every mistake in the book as I developed the design. I cut the fabric too short. I didn't like the colour of the perle cotton (twice). I turned a corner of the stitchery incorrectly. I miscounted multiple times (I mean, any idiot ought to be able to count to five, right?). When I finally put the last stitches in place, I was ready for a break before doing any sewing, but a few days later, I backed the hardanger with stiff interfacing, sewed the buttons in place and added a broadcloth lining to the reverse side. The hanger and tassel were easy, and the work was ready to display on the narrow strip of wall between my linen cupboard and bathroom door. That's the only concession I make to decorating for the different seasons of the year, changing out a series of mini bell-pulls themed for spring, summer, autumn and winter.

Abhorrence

Day 1: Nature abhors a vacuum. Crow abhors a mistake. Having finished the birds cross-stitch, I decided to work on making a small hardanger wall ornament on which to display Dorset buttons, and it has become a serial nightmare. It started badly. I wasn't happy with the colour, wasn't happy with the weight of thread I'd chosen. I cut the stitching off at least half a dozen times in the process of working out how I wanted it to look. Once I finally settled the issues of colour and weight, I made no end of miscounting errors in the buttonhole stitching outlining the piece. After sorting that out, I realized I'd set the design too high on the scrap of cloth I wanted to use up, and didn't have enough to turn for a rod pocket, but I was so far into it that I decided to keep going and turn it into something else. I thought everything was coming along nicely until I turned the final corner and discovered that if I continued, I'd have 21 threads on one side of "middle" and 22 on the other. I counted. I counted again. I counted several different ways. I couldn't see where I'd made the mistake. Thinking I might have messed up in the planning phase I'd only done mentally, I charted it. No, I should have had 21 stitches on either side. I counted again. And again. Somewhere in there, there's a mistake, and I can't find it. Now I have two choices: cut the stitchery off the cloth, or throw the whole bloody thing in the bin. I'm 'bout ready to opt for the latter choice.

Footnote: Found and fixed!

Ready To Be Festive

Day 49: I don't know about you, dear readers, but I am ready to be festive. 2023 has been a tough year. Normally, I'd wait until St. Nicholas' Day (December 6) to start decorating, and although I did move the quilt frame out of the living room preparatory to putting up the tree between the 6th and 10th, today seemed like as good a time as any to pull a few things out of storage. As you could probably have guessed, most of my accessories are bird-themed, and even though Washington doesn't have native Cardinals, a large flock appears here every December, released from 11 months' captivity within the linen cupboard. I've been given to understand that their favourite food is cookies, so I guess that's the next thing on my agenda.

Hardanger In Progress

Day 288: As I am delving into the deep recesses of my crafts cupboards for things to do during my self-imposed pandemic isolation, a few unfinished projects are surfacing. I had barely begun this one when I tucked it away, and thereby hangs a tale. For ten years or so, I had an arrangement with a woman who ran a Scandinavian gift and needlework shop to provide her with sample pieces she could display as enticement for customers looking to start their own projects. The terms of our agreement were that in exchange for free supplies and pattern books, my finished works would hang on the walls of her shop for six months. I usually left them with her for much longer, often until the particular pattern I had used became unavailable. We frequently sat in the shop together, sometimes stitching and chatting for an entire afternoon. Over the period of our acquaintance, I must have made easily a hundred or more pieces of hardanger, but one day when I arrived at her door, the shop was closed. I thought nothing of it at the time and simply went home to start a new piece from one of the books and fabrics already in my stockpile. Several months passed before I stopped by the shop again, but again, her door was shut. Some time later, I found out that she had passed away. I found it difficult to pick up my work again, reproaching myself for having not made a better attempt to contact her, but I had had no hint that she was ill or failing. I folded the fabric, bagged it with the threads I had chosen from her shelves, and tucked it away to be forgotten until a few days ago. I will complete it now, as a remembrance of her generosity and kindness to me.

Washington State Fair 2019

Day 347: I entered three pieces in the Washington State Fair's Home Arts "Textiles" competition this year: a hardanger centerpiece, a tatted doily and a handwoven bag with a shoulder strap. Of the three pieces, the one I didn't think the judges would even give a second glance was the bag. Okay, I wove the body and the strap on two different types of looms (floor loom and backstrap), and it was fully lined, but it was just a simple tabby weave. Surprisingly, it brought me a first-place ribbon. The hardanger and tatting both took second place in their class. This was my second year at the Fair. Last year's entries also took two seconds and a first. I'm already at work on entries for 2020!

Size Matters

Day 126: Hardanger embroidery came up in discussion with an internet friend a few days ago, a needleart I've not done much of since burning myself out on it producing pieces for display in a Scandinavian shop. It's an enjoyable pastime, although the repetitious nature of the blocks can be a bit tedious. The filler stitches were always the most fun for me, the intricate detail appealing to my creative muse. As they say, "size matters," and I've always preferred working with the finer threads regardless of the type of stitchery involved, and hardanger was no exception. It's most commonly done on coarser fabrics than the 22-count shown here with the acorn satin-stitch design, but typically Crow, I decided to go finer still and executed the gooseberry piece on some 44-count I had set aside for pulled-thread work. Since I could only see to work it with my glasses off and the fabric held inches from my face, you have no idea how many times I poked myself in the nose with the needle.

Holiday Hardanger

Day 71: Years ago, I happened to connect with an elderly woman who was running a Scandinavian gift shop out of her home. She was also an expert needlewoman and stocked the fabrics and patterns for Norwegian Hardanger embroidery. After several visits and after I had shown her some of my work, she asked me if I would be interested in making pieces which she could display in her shop. She offered me supplies and patterns in exchange for allowing her to use the finished needlework for six months to encourage further sales of books and patterns. Then the finished pieces would be returned to me. I agreed, and over the course of the next several years, I must have stitched at least a hundred designs, most of which I have since given away. At Gloria's insistence, I entered my original work in a national Hardanger contest and twice took honourable mention, a distinction which came with a cash prize and publication of my designs in the promoter's annual pattern book. This holiday piece is not original, but it was one of my favourites from the many I stitched, and I bring it out for display every Christmas season.