Beaded Tatting

Day 15: I have been on a beaded tatting binge for the last ten days or so. I use a tatting needle as opposed to a shuttle, which makes the process much easier. You simply put the required number of beads on the ball thread (I use bead cord and a beading needle, and usually add a few extra beads to be on the safe side) and when it comes time to add one instead of a picot, you simply slide the bead into place and then continue with regular double-stitch (ds). Close rings or secure chains as specified in the pattern, and continue on. The work goes quite quickly as opposed to shuttle tatting, even with the extra time it takes for bead placement. This particular design is one of my favourites. I've used #20 tatting cotton, a #7 needle and 128 #11 seed beads for a dainty ornamental piece about 4" in diameter.

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.

Cross-Stitch Kit

Day 313: Ages ago, a senior friend who was downsizing her crafts stash invited me to take anything I thought I could use. Among the items I selected were several cross-stitch kits, which by now must surely qualify as "vintage," having come down through her hands so far back that she couldn't recall where or when she had purchased them. Most of us crafty types have a few of those hanging around in our closets and trunks, even me. Most of what I took from her has either been worked or passed on, but I had saved this one back "for special." It consists of twelve individual motifs of birds, most in nests or nesting boxes, with two in flight, and is worked on 18-count Aida. The pattern is printed in three colours: black, red and blue. It is very difficult to read in the original, so I had each motif enlarged. Even so, the detail is so fine that I occasionally miss a stitch and have to add it when I notice its absence, an oversight which may cause problems later on if I run short of a colour. That's why I seldom work on kits. The manufacturers seldom seem to take into account that each missed stitch will have a "tail" at either end, consuming more thread than they may have included. Nor do they allow for errors, but thankfully, I make very few of those, or catch them early enough that I can salvage the thread without too much wear on it as it is withdrawn from the canvas. At least with individual motifs, if I run short of a certain colour, I'll be able to substitute something I have on hand, although in this case, not all the threads can be approximated with DMC. A certain amount of thinking ahead is needed here.

A Couple Of Cute Chicks

Day 106: Some of you may have been wondering why, given all the other needlecrafts I do, that I have never mentioned counted cross-stitch. The truth is that I used to do a lot of it, and by "a lot," I mean acres of canvas and miles of thread. Lots. As in "tons," perhaps quite literally. My favourite source for patterns was a magazine which is still published today, but bears very little resemblance to its earlier self. As the changeover to "pink and fluffy" occurred along with a greater emphasis on crafts as opposed to needlearts, I dropped my subscription. Eventually, my interest waned as well, and cross-stitch went on the shelf, only to be trotted out when I needed a gift for someone.

Now it must be said that blackwork doesn't qualify as cross-stitch although some stitches are the same in both techniques. However, there is only room in a home for a limited number of blackwork pieces, and I have my two favourites on the wall of the living room. Still, the urge to create something with needle and floss has been nagging me these last few weeks, and these two cute chicks kept popping into my mental vision. I've stitched this pattern at least half a dozen times as the design at the top of a sampler, and seem to recall that I even made one for myself at one point, framed in dark red broadcloth, but where it is now is a mystery. In any event, I'll have to think of an appropriate verse if it's to hang in my kitchen per the plan.

In The Dark Again

Day 19: By some great stroke of luck, I had finished my morning ablutions, eaten breakfast and, most importantly, had a cup of coffee, and had settled in to await the dawn while doing some needlework. I had put three stitches on the tatting needle when the lights flickered once, twice, stayed on for a whole five seconds and then went out entirely. "Well," I said aloud, "I'm in the pitch-bloomin'-bloody-black-dark again." Fortunately, our service area is small and our utilities crews are prompt. A little over two and a half hours later, power was restored. However, it is at times like these that I wonder how those mediaeval women ever did their meticulous, intricate work by rushlight, or how pioneer women were able to manufacture garments and embroideries by candle or lantern light with such skill that it meets or surpasses that of most needleworkers today. Admittedly, my vision is impaired, and specifically in low-light situations, but crafting a neat join by flashlight was almost beyond me. I got that far, and laid my work aside to prevent the possibility of a misplaced stitch being made. Power outages drive me to knitting. I can do that with my eyes closed.

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.

Blackwork Off My Plate

Day 279: Tucked into a bookshelf where I only remembered it when I was getting out a new volume of sudoku puzzles, the blackwork Dresden plate I started some four years ago wasn't getting much attention. It was nearly finished when I stowed it there (I think because I had guests coming and did some quick tidying), but for some reason, I just wasn't getting back to it. Finding it again a few days ago, I decided to remedy the situation. For those of you unfamiliar with this style of needlework, it's similar to counted cross-stitch in that it is usually worked on counted-thread canvas (not always, but it's easier). Geometric designs are often shaded from dark to light by gradually omitting some of the stitches, as can be seen in the blades just right of noon and and those appearing in every fourth unit around the clock here. The possibilities for variation make blackwork visually rich despite being monochromatic. The blackwork plate is now off my plate, waiting to be mounted in its frame to match a companion piece (a maze).

Lucet Braiding

Day 109: Lucet braiding is a simple cord-making technique and dates back at least to mediaeval times, possibly earlier. It is closely allied to French spool-knitting, a later development. The first lucets were probably no more than forked sticks, and over the history of the craft became more refined to include an outward bend at the tips of the tines as a means of assuring that the work would not slip off while the thread was being passed over the previous loop. Almost any smooth thread or cord can be used to create a lucet braid as long as it can be manipulated with the fingers. The diameter of the braid is dependent on the size of the fiber and tensioning. A braid can be as loose or firm as the fiber artist requires. One of the main differences between lucet braiding and French knitting is that the lucet tool is generally only two-pronged. Some three- and four-pronged versions exist, but these are largely modern innovations. The resultant braid worked on a two-pronged lucet is square, but beads or other embellishments can be added while working. Gimp materials (those carried by the braid but not actually braided themselves) may also be added to give width or character to the work. Here, I am using a modern rosewood lucet to create a braid from crochet cotton which will be used as the drawstring for a sprang bag of the same material.

Winter Hat

Day 67: First of all, let me apologize for the model. My new winter hat was too big for Tippy or any of my stuffies, so you're stuck with the little old lady who, in any event, is going to be the one wearing it. That said, it's not often that I find a new craft which I find as enjoyable as my usual fare of needlearts (knitting, weaving and crochet), but nalbinding has found a niche in my skills database which is likely to be visited fairly often. I love the look of the stitches, and even though their execution is repetitive and progresses slowly, the herringbones and plaits they create makes a dense yet light and flexible textile. If not as versatile as knit or crochet, nalbinding can be used to make sweaters, socks, mittens, bags, scarves, shawls and so on, and its unique look will have your needleworking friends asking, "What's that stitch? How did you do that?" The only equipment required is some yarn and a standard yarn needle, although specialized flat needles made of bone, horn or wood will make your stitching more uniform and easier. I used a 3.5" bone needle to stitch my hat, topped it with a crocheted "toorie" flower and added another one at the temple. You'll also notice that I made it plenty long to keep my ears warm! I decreased stitches in the last few rows to ensure a snug fit. Now I'm ready for some snow!

Twists And Turns

Day 61: Although this is another Red Heart "colour pooling" yarn, the shades are such that I don't want to lump it into the Ugly Yarn series even though it has a somewhat harsh finish. In fact, I find the pastels rather pleasing. Still, variegated yarns are best employed as novelties or small projects, so I thought I'd make myself a new winter hat using nalbinding. Having learned the Oslo stitch, it was time to move up to something a little more complicated, i.e., Finnish stitch. Finnish is more dense than Oslo and gives a lovely plaited effect reminiscent of four-strand braiding, but oh, the twists and turns! There are a number of variations to the stitch depending on how many threads the needleworker chooses to pick up from the edge and/or reverse side, as well as the number of threads carried on the thumb at any given time. Here, I pick up one edge stitch, then the innermost of three thumb loops, one "mouse ear" loop from the reverse, and then twist the three loops downward as I pass my needle under the remaining two thumb loops and the working thread. It sounds complicated, but in practice, the process is fairly obvious. Increases are made by utilizing the same edge loop twice in succession, decreases by picking up two edge loops instead of one. That said, the needleworker will not find standardized patterns for nalbinding garments or other items due to multiple factors including an individual's thumb size, the tightness of the work, the type of yarn used and so on. A willingness to experiment is crucial, and the experience gained by it will dictate your success with nalbinding, which is to say that my first try at the crown of a hat came out way too pointy, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Old Dog, New Trick

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Day 53: This old dog has learned a new trick: nålbinding (or at least the Oslo stitch, so far). I happened across the word in reading about språng, and from hereon out, I'm going to dispense with the diacritical marks for the sake of my English-speaking readership. Indeed, nalbinding can be spelled multiple ways including naalbinding, nalebinding, nalbindning or naalebinding, depending on what part of Scandinavia you're in. The term was only coined during the 1970s and means "needle-binding," although the process has been documented from 6500 BCE. You can read more in Wikipedia if you're curious, and especially since that is currently my main source for its history. Traditionally, it is done with a large-eyed flat and somewhat blunt needle made of wood, bone or horn, but not having one handy, I made do with a yarn needle to create a pair of wristlets. It took a few false starts. In fact, I still have a tendency to make a Möbius strip when starting the second row if I'm not paying close attention to my work. Strangely enough, once I had completed a sample piece, I recognized the technique as something I'd seen before and assumed was knit. Apparently, even the experts have some difficulty telling whether a piece is nalbound or knit when certain stitches have been used. Oslo stitch appears almost braided, and in worsted, makes a very dense textile with an attractive surface character. It has very little horizonal elasticity (i.e., following the direction of the rows) but is somewhat more stretchy on the vertical. The major drawback of the technique is that it must be done with short sections of yarn because the full length must be drawn through the loops as each stitch is made. When worked in wool, new strands are joined by felting, but in synthetics, the needleartist winds up with a lot of tails to tuck. Each wristlet was made over 25 stitches and required two 10-yard lengths of yarn to complete five rounds. Oh yeah, my real needles will arrive Monday. I like nalbinding.

Learning A New Technique

Day 338: There I was, going blithely along after having tatted several split-ring snowflakes, and suddenly the eye of my needle was on the wrong side of the work, preventing me from drawing the next ring closed in a manner which left the working thread in the proper position. My first thought was that I had read the pattern incorrectly, but no, I'd followed the arrows, worked the sections in the proper order, but my needle was definitely backwards. Then I realized something: although I've needle-tatted "throw-out rings" (TORs) on chain sections, I had never orphaned a ring off another ring. My pattern was written for shuttle tatters, but theoretically, everything you can achieve with a shuttle should also be able to be done with a needle even though it may require different steps. Thinking that was the issue, I pulled the work apart and started over. After several hours of frustration, I was almost resigned to having to form one ring as a series of chains which would have left it more angular than the rest, but I was still sure there had to be a way. After dragging out several other tatting books, I found the answer: use a second needle for the TORs. Live and learn, they say, and I consider a day wasted when I don't learn at least one new thing, although I usually like to know that I'm entering the classroom before I get partway into a project.

Two Dozen Motifs

Day 188: "Idle hands are the devil's playground." While I don't believe in a devil, my grandmother's caution is valid. Idle hands...or worse, an idle mind...are bound to find all sorts of mischief. Sixteen days ago, I started the Tablecloth Project. Since that time, I have been working in the garden, experimenting with colour-pooling crochet, making trips to Seattle and Puyallup for Morris dance practice and shopping, reading, hiking, playing Angry Birds, and I've still managed to make two dozen motifs. My goal is to tat at least one motif per day, so I'm ahead of the schedule which will put the tablecloth in next year's Washington State Fair.

People often ask me how I find time for all my crafts. The answer is simple: I don't watch TV, and that takes us back to my addendum to Gma's advice, i.e., the dangerous ground of the idle mind. Hands occupied with a craft and a mind attendant on preventing errors in a pattern don't have time to dwell on grievances and woes. Even better, you'll have something worthwhile when you're done rather than looking back at hours wasted in front of the idiot box. Craft-work may be frustrating when first learning a new technique or art, but even so, it provides mental stimulation, and working at a more familiar craft can be relaxing as well as rewarding. Put down the remote (better yet, have a friend hide it) and pick up your knitting needles, paintbrushes, potter's clay, whatever, and make something. It's good for you.

Pooled Colour Crochet

Day 187: The internet would have you believe that pooled-colour crochet was a new thing. It's not. In fact, I first learned about it when I was working as an art-needlework consultant in the mid-1960s. It didn't achieve any great popularity at the time due to several factors, largely access to instructions which were easy to comprehend. As I recall, Bernat drove the bandwagon with a number of regularly space-dyed yarns which were supposed to yield a tartan pattern when crocheted or knit. Most people (myself included) gave up after spending many hours frustrated by sections of colour which were either too long, too short, or an "in-between" shade which threw the pattern off. Technology has given us many advancements in dyeing techniques and while still not perfect, the "pooling" yarns on the market today are vastly improved from those of 50 years ago. I thought I'd give it another try, and after ripping out my work several times during the course of the morning, I finally got decent results. Be advised that not all space-dyed yarns can be used for colour-pooling. The colour intervals must be regular, although there can be variation between individual colours, i.e., purple, blue and green could all be 12 inches long spaced apart by six-inch sections of yellow and rose. The trick is in keeping track of how many stitches can be made with each colour. Even so, it's fiddly work, requiring a lot of pick-back even after you've mastered the basic technique, but it's fun to do, and gives a great "poor-man's plaid" effect.

Exhibit A

Day 167: By the time I'd made a dozen of the rosette motifs which form the wide border of this 9" doily, I had memorized the pattern and was having trouble motivating myself to complete one each day. Made with size 40 cotton, this needle-tatted lace will be one of my submissions to the Washington State Fair this year. Last year, I entered two weavings and a handkerchief edged with bobbin lace, and took one first prize and two second prizes. I'll be changing up the types of needlework this time around, at the very least subbing in tatting and hardanger, although I may also include one woven piece as my "signature" item. Last year was the first time I'd entered the Fair, and hindsight being so much sharper than foresight, I now regret not listening to my husband as he encouraged me to submit something, anything to demonstrate my skills. I'd walked through the exhibits, mentally comparing my work to those of the long-time competitors and figured that nothing I'd made would make it out of the starting gate. When I saw the award ribbons next to those first submissions, my first thought was of Bruce. I wish he could have shared in my delight. And just as a personal footnote here, it was Bruce's grandma who helped me perfect my tatting technique. I was thinking of her while I was making this doily, remembering how she used to put a mark on her finger with indelible ink as a guide for the length of her picots. I didn't go quite that far, although I used a gauge for the chains in this piece.

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.

Fair Entries

Day 212: It's official! I will have at least two entries in the Washington State Fair this year, a woven table runner and a mounted bobbin lace handkerchief edging. It will be the first time I've entered anything in Home Arts. Okay, I'm still a foot or so away from having the table runners off the loom (I warped for three), but if push came to shove, I could have it done in two days. I have lots of time. Entries are to be delivered to the Fair August 17-19. Last year, there were only two examples of bobbin lace. These may not be my only entries. Registration will remain open through July. Maybe I can even get another weaving project done by then!

Bargello

Day 193: Also known as Florentine work or flame embroidery, Bargello is an easy-to-master needle-art. Designs are largely geometric and rely upon colour to give form and depth to the finished work. Stitches are always perpendicular; curves are created by using different multiples. It is normally worked on needlepoint canvas, but here I am adapting it to 22-count even-weave to make a wallet-style needle case which will replace one I made about thirty years ago. I will apply a thin latex product to the finished embroidery to make it water and stain resistant, and the interior will be lined with felt to hold the needles. That's what wore out on my old one...the felt. The latex-coated needlework has suffered no noticeable wear, even with almost daily use.

At The Needle

Day 362: I have always been an early riser. Even when I was very young, I would be up before the sun, reading or playing as I waited for first light. Conversely, I go to bed earlier than most people. I am seldom awake after 10 PM. These days, I am impatient to start quilting. My vision is such that I cannot work under exclusively artificial light, so as soon the sky lightens, I throw back the curtains and take my position in the north window. A few hours into the morning, the point arrives when the sun rises above my neighbour's woods to the east, glares at me as if it resents my customary morning cheer, and slants across my work until I swear at it and push the frame aside. Half an hour later, old Sol gives up tormenting me and I resume my work.

Quilting is something of a winter occupation, like making an afghan or knitting a sweater. It's too warm to be under a blanket during the summer, however loosely draped. Yet in summer when the hours of light are long, I would like to spend more time at the needle, but wildflowers and waterways speak with louder, more insistent voices, pulling me away. "So much to do, and so little time," I think, and try to divide myself among my many pastimes. I cannot imagine why anyone would want to watch TV.