bootees!

My first ever baby knitting! I’m surprised I managed to wait so long before starting something baby-sized, since I’m always coo-ing over tiddly cardigans and sailor outfits, and threatening to knit them in spite of not actually being acquainted with a single baby. Aside from having deep reservations about babies themselves, I’d be only too happy if someone I knew would go and have one, or even a few, if they would also be happy for me to produce snuggly knitwear for their beloved offspring, too.

So you could say my dreams were answered when a colleague from work went and had not one baby, but two! At once! It was the perfect opportunity to whip up a pair of teeny-tiny bootees, following this pattern, which I have admired for a long, long time. I used some of the handspun Peruvian alpaca yarn that I was given for Christmas (and which I blogged about here) since I only needed a minimal amount, and plus it was perfectly soft for baby feet.

Also, since these babies came as a pair, I managed to encourage another of my colleagues who has recently taken up knitting to make a second pair of bootees, using some more of the cushty alpaca yarn. Mine are the red ones, and hers are the green ones. They are absolutely perfect, and especially impressive given that they’re only the second thing she has ever knitted before (the first being a garter stitch scarf), and this was the first time she had ever followed a pattern! (I’m hoping this will lead to great things in the office…) We opted for buttons in reverse colours, and wrapping to match.

They did sort of end up looking a bit like out-of-season Christmas presents when they were all wrapped up, but apart from this I think the non-standard baby colours were a good move. Far too many baby things are pale pink or blue, and some good wholesome colours can only be a good thing. I think the parcel must have arrived by now, but we haven’t heard yet whether the bootees fit (I so hope they do!) or whether the babies like them… We’re waiting on tenterhooks!

what better than a rainy saturday morning…

…for the perfect excuse to stay in bed and try out a brand new computer game on my laptop, my fave bedtime companion. It truly is delightful to open my curtains on a weekend morning, realise that the day is not worth getting up for, and snuggle back down with some geeky activity from the comfort of my blankets. Today I decided to break out a new game, which I’ve had lined up for months on Steam, but as it came at the same time as lots of others, I didn’t try them all out at once. As it happens, this particular game is quite addictive, in my opinion at least. It’s called Eufloria. It’s all based around asteroids, trees and seedlings, with a very simple design and concept, and nice eery, atmospheric music to accompany you. Basically you take over asteroids with the power of seedlings, and plant trees once you’ve done so, which create more seedlings, and so on. Here’s a screenshot, as a taster:

It reminds me somewhat of another game called Osmos, which I got quite hooked on last year, where you are a bubble in a vast watery expanse of blue, full of other bubbles of varying sizes. You have to become the biggest bubble by subsuming other smaller bubbles, and without getting subsumed into bigger bubbles than yourself. It’s similarly simple in appearance and concept, with music that is similarly out of this world. I really like this new(ish) species of conceptual indie computer games – they provide endless fascination (not to mention time-wasting opportunities).

I actually meant to do something more than just complete the next level and then the next level and the one after that; but other than make and eat a fancy gourmet dinner, I appear not to have achieved anything besides this today. So in writing this post I am comforting myself by telling the world what a good game it is, and spreading the word, if that counts as achieving something? Or perhaps I am only dragging others down with me…

the armadillo collection

Somehow or other, armadilloes became decidedly in vogue this spring – or at least in my house they did. Due to no particular reason, I found myself embarking on an armadillo-themed, three-part birthday present, consisting of two matching (but different) pillowcases, and a fluffy little woolly armadillo to go with them. I never intended to make it a present of three instalments, but when I saw that I wasn’t going to make the deadline with the first pillowcase, I started on the woolly version. And then of course I didn’t finish that on time either, so ended up giving all three parts away late. Very late. But now I proudly present to you the finished collection:

Pillowcase the First: I think I got the idea for the zig-zag pattern from a book on Indonesian embroidery originally, though I can’t properly remember now and in any case you certainly wouldn’t know it from seeing it here! As for the armadillo itself, I made a pattern for it, and will upload it shortly to the cross-stitch designs page, for the unlikely event that anyone else finds themselves in desperate need of an instant armadillo cross-stitch pattern!

Pillowcase the Second: as you can see, these pillowcases are far too finely woven for even my youthful sparky eyes to count the threads, so I had to use waste canvas to keep my stitches neat and tidy. No matter how many times I stitch on waste canvas, I can never get over the surprise that comes when you pull all the threads out, and the huge difference in the way something looks, once the canvas has been removed. Now finished, it reads: ‘Be my darling armadillo all the day!’, followed by another armadillo, in purple, facing the opposite direction to the first. The keen Flanders and Swann fans among you will recognise this line from their Armadillo song, and will know just how appropriate it is for it to feature on a pillowcase, given the two preceding lines: ‘Be my fellow on my pillow / Underneath this weeping willow’. If you’re not a keen Flanders and Swann fan, then I strongly recommend you go and listen to this song straightaway, with a hanky at hand, to dab away the inevitable tears. Now whenever I look at this pillow, or any photos of it, I always, without fail, end up with this song stuck in my head.

And finally, part three, this snuffly little cutie (now christened Beatrix, or Trixie for short/to her friends) came about. I found this awesome pattern for a knitted armadillo quite some time ago now, and I’ve just been waiting for the occasion to present itself when I could start knitting it. (I knew such an occasion would come, and sure enough…) One of the coolest things about this armadillo is that her shell is big enough that you can pull it over her head and tail, and she can curl up in a little ball to make her quite the cutest thing I’ve seen in a long time. I’ll put more photos of her, and her two embroidered friends, up on Flickr soon. So there ends my armadillo collection! An accidental, yet pleasing trio of beasts!

summer photo fun

Back when you could still buy Polaroid cameras and film (all those many months ago!), I always used to want one. Oh the infinite joy that is to be had from waving little scraps of paper in the air until a poor-quality picture appears! But now I find that some clever clogses have filled the gap that the Polaroid left behind, and I now have the ability to create Polaroid photos without any of the expense, any of the waste, and whilst still being able to keep a good-quality image at the same time! What genius. And what better subject matter to try it all out on than glorious scenes of British summer (or at least the closest we’ve come to it so far this year)?

               

One of the best parts of summertime is going to the pick-your-own farm across the meadow, and loading up on fresh summer fruit and vegetables for salads, jam, tarts… you name it. When I was little we always used to pick strawberries. Always, without question. And when I say ‘pick’, I mean two thirds would go in the punnet and one third would go into our mouths. These days my picking habits appear to have changed: so far I have not picked a single strawberry this year – instead I have battled some pretty fearsome gooseberry bushes for a whole punnet of eery, hairy green berries, and have lugged home about six kilos of broad beans in total.

                

When I took the first lot up to be weighed, the old man with the scales took one look at my bag and said, “So, you like beans then?” I don’t think anyone had picked so many beans in one go all season long… The instant gratification approach to picking fruit and veg appears to be long gone, but my broad bean soup was well worth forgoing the strawberries for.

back to the fold

It’s been quite a while since I last dabbled in origami, though when I was younger I used to make origami animals, flowers, cards, envelopes and boxes galore. In spite of the very prolonged pause since I last did it, I’ve long hankered after an instruction book for crazy, complicated modular origami shapes, as they always impress me no end. And then when I was in New York in April, what did I find if not TWO such books, very cheaply! Rather impressively, I thought, I managed to tear myself away from the heaps of beautifully-patterned origami paper on display near the books, since, as you can see, I already have quite a collection myself…

Last weekend then presented itself as the perfect opportunity to get my fold on once more, as it wouldn’t stop raining. I wasn’t remotely inclined to give in to the dog and take her out on the meadow; instead I fetched every last little bit of origami paper I could find, and piled it all up on the kitchen table, with a steaming cup of tea. I chose the most basic of the complex 3D shapes, and, with my origami co-pilot, chopped six square papers in half to make twelve modules, and got folding them. Eventually, we ended up with this:

I really love it, especially the way the windows wonk in different directions when you look through the centre of the cube, and also the bold colours and patterns of the paper. And it wasn’t at all hard to make; just exceedingly satisfying. I admired it for a little while, and considered taking the dog for a walk while the rain was only light. But then my co-folder suggested more tea, and another model, and before I knew it I was folding my way through a stack of thirty squares, in order to make this:

I think this one’s a dodecahedron, though someone should correct me if I’m wrong. Again, the pieces were mindbendingly easy to fold, but in this case it was a little more fiddly to put together than the last one. It took a while to figure out how the pieces attached, and another little while to get all thirty assembled in the correct shape. On more than one occasion I found I had one too many pieces at a junction and had to take one away. I think if I were to make this model again from scratch, I would do a neater job, but I’m still pretty chuffed with this one as it is.

Perhaps this is a relaunch into the world of folding paper? Using thirty pieces of origami paper a pop, I would use up my paper stash in no time! I do love these awesome geometric paper shapes, but the one problem I need to overcome now is: what on earth to do with them when they’re finished??? Suggestions welcome!

the relative merits of craft shops

The other day, I found myself at a loose end in central London, and, catching sight of Liberty’s at the end of the street I was pottering along, I thought to myself ‘what better place to while away a spare hour?’, and headed straight for it, with a new-found sense of direction. I was in one of those moods when I felt that the whim might just take me to splash out on some extravagant home accessory, as if to give my day some kind of purpose (exactly what it lacked up to that point), and Liberty’s seemed like the kind of place where that kind of whim would most likely be satisfied. Naturally, as soon as I saw the sign to the haberdashery department, I made a beeline for it, knowing that this would be where I would find my satisfaction, and my purse its undoing.

But on the contrary, despite the unbeatable surroundings – and I really love the interior of Liberty’s – I found nothing whatsoever to tempt me. There was very little fabric to choose from, and an even tinier selection of remnants, and next to nothing in the way of what you could really call ‘creative’ or ‘craft’ materials. Everything came pre-packaged in kits, or in tiddly sample quantities of overpriced notions. None of it was aimed at people who actually make anything from scratch – it was all ready-made decorations for other ready-made items. It all just left me wondering where things went wrong, since once upon a time I have no doubt that Liberty’s really would have been the place to go to buy just about anything (and especially things of a luxury nature) for one’s haberdashery needs.

Then last weekend I went to Cambridge, and made my customary visit to the new fabric shop, CallyCo. (I still think of it as new, although it’s actually been around for nearly a year now. I guess it’s just a year I haven’t been around…) The difference was radical. Although this shop is a mere fraction of the size of Liberty’s, they have an enormous variety of fabrics, both dress and upholstery-weight, plus a selection of notions and kits that is plenty large enough, plus threads in all colours of the rainbow, and even paint! And, (what always gets me), an endlessly changing selection of remnants and fat quarters, which never fails to entice me whenever I go in. Fortunately that tends not to be more than once a month at present, but once I move back to that side of the country, there’s no knowing what might become of me (the photo above being the outcome of my latest visit).

Similarly, a visit to Oxford’s one and only dedicated (and also relatively new) haberdashery shop, Darn It & Stitch, was far more inviting than its capital city, luxury department store cousin. Although another tiny space, they really pack a lot in, and it’s always surprising how many cute or beautiful things I find in there to interest me – the bunny fabric above being a case in point. From locally-dyed wool, to vintage buttons and zips, to fat quarters and fabric by the metre, and that’s not all, by any means.

The moral of the story? There isn’t much of one, really, and I’m sure it’s been said before. But in order to find really interesting and lovely materials for crafty purposes beyond ready-packed kits, the biggest and most likely-looking stores rarely have the answer. Thank goodness little shops like these ones exist, or where would I be? (The answer? Probably a lot richer.)

my textile pilgrimage

Last month I went to New York on a textile pilgrimage, of sorts. Most people thought it was just a regular holiday, but given that I was the only one of my friends to have an interest in such things, I would say I did pretty well for sneaking in textile exhibits all over the place. I only hope I didn’t bore the socks off my (geologist) companions – though in fact even if their little socks did drop off out of sheer textile boredom, I’m sure I saw enough fossils and dinosaurs to make up for it. First off, we went to the Museum of Natural History, where, in between dinosaurs and dead animals, I found a selection of examples of weaving by Eastern Woodlands and Plains Indians, like the bag below. They used a huge variety of different patterns and colours in their weaving, as well as several different weaving techniques, the likes of which I hadn’t seen before, which produce really striking designs.

Next we visited the Met, which is like an entire city in itself, and I think probably the most amazing museum I have ever set foot in. I wanted to move in right then and there. They had a small collection of African textiles, including several beautiful blankets woven in strips of even length and sewn together, just like the ones I’ve been reading about recently in this book (a gift to myself one quiet afternoon…). There also happened to be a special exhibition of Andean tunics, which I made a beeline for. There were quite a few: some with geometric patterns, and some with creatures woven into the designs, like the fierce cats on the tunic below. Fierce cats seemed to be a recurring theme. They even had several mini tunics, which were only a few inches long, and which often resembled the full-size ones exactly. Apparently these mini tunics would dress little gold and silver figurines, which were then used as religious offerings.

A few days later we went to the American Folk Art Museum, which stood up exceedingly well next to the Museum of Modern Art (all except for their display of Issey Miyake’s A-POC Queen Textile, which was way cool). It contained all the character and soul that the MoMA lacked, and to top it all off, they even had a huge exhibition of patchwork quilts displayed over three floors (thanks to 2011 being the Year of the Quilt! What luck!). There were so many to see: quilts with patches in the shape of states, to make up maps of the US; examples of crazy quilting, with all variety of different stitches between patches; applique quilts; quilts for special occasions made from velvet and silk; and genuine patchwork, made from scraps. The close-up below is just from one whose style I particularly liked, but I could have featured any number of amazing quilts.

And finally, the part of my trip that most resembled a pilgrimage was our one-day trip to Washington, DC, with the primary aim of seeing the Textile Museum (we saw some more dinosaurs here too, at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, as well as the White House and the Capitol and so on, but they were really just a sideline). It was a bit of a mega outing, as in order to get the cheapest trains (which still weren’t cheap) we had to get up at 4am, only to return to bed at 2:30am. The Textile Museum was only fairly small – much smaller than I had imagined from looking at their website – but what they had on display was definitely worth seeing.

There was a special exhibition on the theme of ‘Green’, which included both pieces that were green in colour, such as a lovely embroidered C19 Chinese silk robe, and pieces that were green environmentally-speaking, for example made by re-using and re-purposing found material (like this embroidered strip by artist Maggy Rozycki Hiltner). Then upstairs, there was a selection from their permanent collection on the theme of recycled textiles, which included several different kinds of patchwork quilt from various cultures, an amazing Japanese man’s coat, and a navajo blanket, painstakingly made from re-woven threads.

All in all, quite a textile-packed trip for something that wasn’t explicitly meant to be. I would say it was a wild success.

accidental patchwork

Last weekend, I think due to the shock to the system of having four days off instead of the usual two, I accidentally embarked on a brand new patchwork quilt. This was just hours after telling myself sternly that I still had two patchwork quilts on the go that needed to take priority in the finishing list, and promising myself that by no means would I touch this until I had completed one of the others. Then I was left alone in the house, and when there’s no one about to keep me on the straight and narrow, there’s no telling what I might get up to.

So inevitably as soon as the front door was closed, I scampered off up the stairs to find the rotary cutter and a ruler and a mat, and set about cutting a hundred or so pink and blue fabric squares. I ought to explain that this is the result of some of the bounty that I returned from New York with. I made a visit to The City Quilter while I was there, and it was sort of beyond my wildest dreams. I only brought back a fraction of the things that I saw that looked interesting – I’m sure I only scratched the surface – but such is the fate of the girl who goes on holiday with friends who don’t share her fabric interests…
I ended up coming home with (amongst other things!) a pack of one hundred-ish little pre-cut patchwork squares, and I bought a couple of yards of lovely textured Japanese fabric in pink and blue to mix with them. It took me most of the afternoon to cut the squares above, and once I’d finished, I laid them all out over the kitchen table, and spent a happy half hour arranging the patterned ones in the gaps. Unfortunately the kitchen table wasn’t big enough, so you’ll see that I had to improvise a little extension on one side.

I’m sure that this is by far the speediest patchwork I’ve ever made, as by the end of the evening I had managed to sew the vast majority of the squares into strips, and only had a couple left to do the following day. Sadly I can’t claim to have carried on at the same pace all weekend, and I can’t yet show proof of the finished object, as the strips are still in a bundle in my living room, with numbers pinned to them so that I can’t possibly forget what order they’re supposed to go in, while I summon up the strength for my next mega straight line sewing session.

the best birthday present ever

I read in the newspaper yesterday about what has to be the absolute best birthday present ever: a free exhibition of 650 patchwork quilts in New York city. This was the resulting gift from a millionaire husband to his wife on her 80th birthday, when she asked for “something I’ve never seen before” and “a gift for New York”.

The photos from the event are spectacular, with row upon row of red and white quilts suspended in mid-air. The design of the exhibition is really incredible, and I hate to think how much effort went into setting the whole thing up. I just watched a time-lapse video of the setting-up process, with cranes and all, which was fun. Despite the fact that all 650 quilts are red and white, the variety between them is huge.
The only part I regret about this amazing story is the fact that it lasted for less than a week (surely once they’d gone to all that effort it would have been more worthwhile to keep it on for longer???). I’m actually going to New York in two weeks’ time, and this would have been a really fantastic thing to see. The upshot of it all, though, is that at least now I know exactly what to ask for on my 80th birthday.

discovering gujarat textiles

I left work this afternoon with a spring in my step, because marked in my diary was an Oxford Asian Textiles Group event – a talk from Eiluned Edwards on Gujarat textiles and dress. I freely admit to knowing nothing about Gujarat textiles or dress, but I hope my enthusiasm makes up for it. I had seen Eiluned’s book on the subject in various bookshops on several occasions, and gazed at the colourful pictures and put it back again in a fit of sensibility, so it was fascinating to actually hear the author talk about these textiles in person, and this was made even better still by the fact that she brought along a large quantity of examples for us to stroke and admire.

Ajrak textiles formed the subject matter for most of the talk. These are made from two lengths of cotton, woven separately, then printed and joined with hand embroidery at the centre (see the photo above). This embroidery (often made to resemble fish bones) is incredibly dense to the touch, and must take a considerable amount of time to complete. The highly detailed, intricate patterns are printed using around 25 different carved wooden blocks, and a resist paste made of lime and gum arabic. Ajrak textiles are printed like this on both sides with an identical pattern, and apparently one can determine the skill of a printer when one holds such a cloth up to the light: if no shadows can be seen, i.e. if the patterns on both sides line up perfectly, then it is the work of a highly skilled craftsman. Personally, I am amazed that this could even be anywhere near possible when printing textiles by hand, using wooden blocks.
Although embroidered textiles didn’t feature in the talk, Eiluned brought many pieces of embroidered Gujarat textiles for us to see, including a couple of beautiful little children’s head coverings, both entirely covered in tiny stitches with not a single square millimeter left untouched. These were shaped like hats at the top, but with long, broad tails that would reach a long way down a child’s back and protect it from the sun whilst also radiating brilliant colours.
We also saw an embroidered bag, designed to keep a Qu’ran in, that was made in the style of a square envelope, with the four corners meeting at the centre on the reverse. It shimmered with little mirrors all over. All in all, it was a great event, and really wonderful to see all these things close up and examine how they were made. It might amount to a sufficient excuse to actually buy the book now…