Textile Porn

Some weeks have a theme. The theme might be something as trite as "I watched a lot of Friday Night Lights" or "I drank a lot of Syrah." Some weeks I eat almost exclusively Mexican food. Some weeks I play an inconceivable amount of solitaire on my phone. This week, however, the theme has been textiles. Which photographs much better, I must say, than Mexican food or video games.

I have Lena Corwin to thank for this week's theme. We have been shooting the how-to photos for her second book (her first book was the incredibly gorgeous Printing By Hand), and for this book, Lena and her team have camped out at the Textile Arts Center in Brooklyn--a wonderland for weavers, dyers, and screen printers. If it has to do with fabric, they teach classes on how to make it there. The works in progress on the looms scattered about the studio are swoon-worthy.

Also swoon-worthy are the textiles that will appear in the book. Like this screen-printed linen Lena designed. Just look at those crisp lines and that saturated dye!

And these woven place mats, with a solid fabric weft and sweet floral warp.

Even the wash rags at the Textile Arts Center are gorgeous, having mopped up countless ink spills in lovely shades of everything.

Back in my own home, I've had a few less exotic textile moments. Like this vintage dress I recently tried to alter. Check out those horrifying stitches around the armhole, made by the excellent teamwork of myself and the bobbin from hell. Last Sunday I worked up the nerve to take out the rat's nest of stitches, and now the dress is ready to wear. Win!

I also found a use for this funky upholstery fabric I've had kicking around for the last year. I've come to realize that funky fabrics are at their best on the inside of a bag--not all of us want to fly our psychedelic flag so loud and proud.

But on the outside? Why not keep it simple with a coral linen, accented by creamy white cotton straps.

Soon enough, I will start playing with some wintry wool fabrics for my HeyAllday Handmade bags. Not these ones, mind you. These ones are very fancy fabrics that I found at a men's suiting warehouse. Want to know how much they cost? Sixty dollars a yard, my friends. Oh but these cashmeres came in the softest blues and creams. I will dream of these woolens whilst shopping online for their more affordable brethren. (Any hot tips, people, let me know!)

Halfway House

I feel it important you all know that as I begin writing this blog post, the lyrics "Ooooh, we're halfway there, oh OH living on a prayer!" are blasting in my head. That's what I get for trying to tell you the story about my weekend and how I only got halfway along on everything I started.

I think the problem is the dogs. Yes, we should certainly blame it on the dogs.

For one whole fun-filled week, we are watching Camper's friend, Carl Barks (yes, that is his full name.) Camper and Carl spend most of their time chewing on each other's teeth. It makes a horrible clanking sound, but they seem to find it fun. These two have gotten into more trouble together in one week than Camper has ever gotten into on his own. The first night we had Carl, he pooped on the floor. So naturally Camper did, too. I think it was a solidarity thing. They have broken out of their barricades, slept on our heads, chased squirrels to an inch of their lives, whined, cried, been tied up together outside of the fabric shop like a two-headed monster, and together, they managed to get an avocado off of the kitchen counter and eat the entire ripe contents by the time we got home. An hour later, I got off the phone with animal poison control (who informed me they would be a little sick but just fine). Thanks a lot, internet, for telling me they might DIE.

So I was a little off my game.

There were these sunflower seeds that I roasted. Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to roast your own sunflower seeds? Well let me tell you! After you cut the head off the sunflower, you have to go through and extract each individual seed with your fingertips. After a thorough cleaning (and an inspection for worms--GROSS), you then soak the seeds in salt water for 24 hours, then roast them for 30 minutes or so at 350. When they came out of the oven, I put them into a cute little bowl and saucer I made in pottery class. Guess what? MOST of the sunflower pods didn't even have seeds. We were just sitting there, chewing on these salty little shells, and every now and then you'd find a thin little sliver of sunflower seed goodness. I kept thinking, this would be the perfect diet food! You do all that work and get like 5 calories, but the salt makes you feel like you ate something.

Seriously, why do people do this?

Next up were two botched dress upgrades. The first was an attempt to dye a cute little white dress I bought at a thrift store. I was thinking indigo ombre. Doesn't that sound fabulous? All in all, it was a $14, one-hour-long failed experiment, so not a big deal. But let me just give you this word of advice: You absolutely cannot dye synthetic fibers with RIT dye. The box tells you that, and you may be tempted to not believe the box. But seriously, the box means it. So this little polyester Grecian goddess number? Yeah, it turned a color I'm going to call "silvery cream." It's fine. It's whatever. It is NOT ombre. And it is certainly not indigo. I would show you a photo of the "after," but it's, um, sort of the same.

Next up, I decided to do a little surgery on a vintage dress I bought online. The dress is so cute, but the sleeves were hideous and made me look boxy and frump-a-dump, so I decided to do a little hem at the shoulder and lop them off. The first sleeve went off just fine. The second, I don't know what happened. I think an evil spirit lives in the bobbin of my sewing machine. When I got around the entire armhole, I looked on the underside of the fabric to see the most hideous knot nest looping its wicked way all around the inside of the sleeve. It was so nasty looking that I just set the dress down and backed away slowly. In fact, we might just pretend that never happened.

There was, however, one bright shimmering project that went beyond the halfway point today--I potted this succulent. I had intended this pot and saucer to be a little planter, but the holes in the pot had partially filled with glaze (see: amateur potter). So after we threw out the stupid sunflower seeds, Robb drilled holes in the bottom of the pot through the glaze and I popped this little succulent in place. It took about three minutes, but it was deeply satisfying. With the help of Bon Jovi, I lived on the prayer that I would finish a single project this weekend, and my prayers were answered.

Six Yards

About two months ago, I spontaneously ordered six yards of wool/silk jersey online. The package arrived and inside was a small, tight mound of fabric. I was at first taken aback by how little fabric six yards seemed to be...the bundle was so small! But the package itself had a nice heft to it. Oh, I realized...this is one of those fabrics that has drape. And bounce. That clings and flows. This, I thought, will be interesting.

I bought the fabric intending to make myself an Alabama Chanin dress. Nothing fancy. Just a sweet little thing in gray that I could slip into and feel like a lady on weekends. (Over the years, I'm sorry to say, I've found that I barely try at all on the weekends, typically wearing clothing that is just a notch nicer than pajamas. Showers are optional and hair-dos involve a rubber band and no mirror.) The dress is supposed to be entirely hand-sewn, but since summer was already waning by the time I began, I opted to machine-sew it...despite the fact that wool/silk jersey is delicate and slippery and requires some wrangling. I'm a "just get it done" kind of girl, after all, and this dress needed to be done already.

By Saturday afternoon, I finished the dress! And as I went to put away the remaining three or so yards of fabric, an idea crawled up into my brain: A high-waisted skirt, something super drapey, a little bit full, and a little bit long. Before I knew it, I had wrapped and pinned several swaths of fabric around my waist and was hunting for some sort of cotton to use as a built-in belt. Boom! Five yards later, I had two new articles of clothing...both made from charcoal gray silk/wool jersey. 

With just one last, long section of the jersey left, I had an idea (and here is where I probably should have gone to bed). I decided to make a scarf with the jersey fabric on one side, and a bright orange-and-white gingham on the other. Why did I pick orange, you wonder? I'm not quite sure (see also: I probably should have gone to bed). I think it had something to do with a lust for color in winter, the way we all need a pop of something vibrant here and there. A reminder that clothing can be fun.

Speaking of fun, this final yard was probably where I finally lost my mind: when I wrapped the scarf around my head and turned it into some sort of vaguely ethnic headdress. (I think I was going for a Girl with the Pearl Earring kind of look?) After sending the "can I pull off this turban?" photo text to Julie, I finally turned off the sewing machine. It was 2am on Saturday night (yes I am a total party animal). Six yards later, I finally went to bed. I dreamt of sewing, of course.

Last Sunday

Last Sunday started off all wrong. We woke up in the morning and decided to go to the "dog beach" in New Jersey, so from a sleepy state in bed, Robb reserved a zipcar on his phone, and I set about making some iced coffee. We left the house in a rush, took the subway two stops to the most unfortunately named subway stop (Flushing), and then when we got above ground, Robb received a voicemail saying that the people who had our zipcar were going to be late. Real late.

We decided to cancel.

On the way back home--no dog beach, no ocean--I got terribly cranky. I wanted to swim, damn it! And here I was, locked in this ugly Brooklyn jail, all stupid concrete and asphalt. On the way back to our house, Robb noticed some people walking by us with towels over their shoulders on their way back from the McCarren Pool. He made me go ask them if the line was long, and they said, no, there's no line at all. We knew right then that we would go swimming...at the giant public pool that we had never been to! All this time, we had thought that it would suck, figuring it would be crowded, gross, with dirty kids running around everywhere. Not so...it was pretty and blue and big and open, and we swam some laps and snoozed on our towels. From that point on, the day looked up.

And as inspiration for this coming weekend--nay, the last weekend of what truly feels like summer--I wanted to post some inspirational photos from my last Sunday. It is my sincerest wish, dear friends, that your weekend will deliver.

This is a lettuce plant that bolted. Like, beyond bolted. I think it's pretty. It's also probably pretty bitter.

This is a supersteak tomato that soon enough will be ready for eating. 

And these are our wet towels and bathing suits, hanging up after a day of swimming. (The Ciroc towel, by the way, was my prize for winning the Michael McDonald singing competition one night at NitaNita...proud memory, for sure.) 

Here are two rising loafs of bread that I decided to make on a whim. They were very salty. Which is great if you like salty bread (I do).

Here are the almonds that I accidentally spilled in my purse. I had to dump them on the counter, which always feels classy.

And here is the binding on my newest Alabama Chanin dress. It's sloppy and it looks like straw, an aesthetic choice that I feel okay about.

Crafting in the Moment

Friends, I took a little break. It was not exactly intended, but not exactly surprising either. If I had to pinpoint a cause for this break, I would say it's an end of summer ennui, a large workload followed by a lovely vacation to California, and a series of moments when inspiration struck, but I was far from a computer.

The break, however, was not for lack of making things. In the past few weeks alone, there has been the completion of a second wedding quilt, dozens of rows knitted on a sweater, the construction of a six-layer pink ombre cake, and I made the acquaintance of a certain baby Frida, who modeled a particularly cute hand-knitted seed-stitch hoodie for me. And yet, I haven't taken a photo of a single thing. Not exactly intentionally. In fact, I really did mean to photograph them. But when Megan put the sweater on Frida, I completely forgot to reach for the camera. And when I gave the quilt to my parents, I declared that I would take photos in natural light the next day (and then proceeded to forget to do that for the next five days). The cake? Didn't bring my camera to the party...there was flourescent lighting in the kitchen anyway, so it would have been a wash.

But the truth behind the matter is this: I've grown a bit weary of the beautification of craft, the trendiness of craft, and the expectation of perfection. (And believe me, I know this sounds crazy coming from a craft book editor, since these three merits are absolutely part of the job.) But lately, I've found that there is something disconcerting about a perfectly executed creation, an impeccably styled photograph...rather than thrilling me as it once did, I've been feeling like it gets away from the heart of the creation. I guess you could say that I miss seeing the hand of the maker, the mistakes, the surprises. As I peruse some of the most vibrant DIY blogs on the planet and admire their offerings, I sometimes find myself wondering, is this what my life is supposed to look like? (Note: this is not what my life looks like.) The sensation reminds me of the anti-Martha battle-cry of the late '90s/early 2000s, when I would hear my mom cursing in front of the television as Martha Stewart demonstrated the how-to for some gorgeous decoration. "I hate her. But I can't stop watching!" (I might be paraphrasing.) Only now it's not just a single Martha...it's a whole internet full of Marthas with creations that we can't stop watching, and the trends that float through Pinterest repeat more reliably than a chevron bedspread. In recent months, I looked on in amazement as people from all walks of life considered the merits of filling mason jars with salad for each day of the week, and I still can't help but wonder how good Friday's salad will be and if the lettuce won't be just a wee bit wilty.

Not that I am immune to salad jar craft ideas! I am, after all, a person who not many months ago went to the trouble of making her own cheese, and I am also a daughter of the Sassy Magazine generation, who lived to tell the tale of dyeing her hair with Kool-aid and chamomile tea. I only started knitting in 2005 when the bandwagon pulled up in San Francisco, and I still to this day take on all manner of projects that will likely not look as good or taste as yummy as the variety that can be bought at the store down the street. Nevertheless, I will never stop making things. I guess the difference is that, in the last few weeks, I have just been trying to enjoy it for myself. The way I used to. Before the internet, before blogs, before everyone was an amateur photographer, before I started making books. There was a time when I used to make things only for the sake of showing myself I could do it, and showing someone else that I loved them. To that end, it's been sort of nice to take a brief hiatus, to live in the moment of making and giving without documentation. When Frida wore the sweater I made for her, I held her in my arms and rocked her about, completely forgetting to grab my camera. And that is probably a good thing.

This isn't to say I won't be sharing creations here anymore! Because, well, that would be pointless. There are still many many reasons to share and enjoy, just as there are many many reasons to sometimes take a break from sharing. I just wanted to let you know where I've been and where I am and what I've been thinking. Do you ever feel this way, too?

Finally, despite all of my grand declarations in this post, I did want to share one of my recent creations...the only one I did think to photograph. It is not very good and it is certainly not trendy. It's a watercolor pencil sketch I did at Alpine Lake, sitting on the shore with my mom and my aunt, each of us with a sketchpad in our lap and a grip of pencils in our hands. My aunt declared my shading to be wimpy and filled in the shadows of the lake for me, and later, my mom taught me how to wet the brush and blend the colors. This is one of my favorite creations, because it is laden with laughter, advice, sunscreen, and the memory of that perfect golden day.

Who Can Resist Green Unicorns??

When the president of our company saw the cover for this book for the first time, he said to me (in all seriousness), "So are green unicorns Heather Ross's thing?"

"Yup," I replied. And really, it's the truth. Though I could have said the same of ugly ducklings or frogs, VW buses or mermaids. 

You see, when you work with Heather Ross's prints, you forget which designs are supposed to be for the adults and which ones are for kids. The answer, in all cases, is both. Her aesthetic speaks to that part of me that will always marvel at Sanrio pencil boxes, with those puffy covers and secret compartments that pop out and the erasers that smell dangerously like candy.

When we originally started talking to Heather about writing Heather Ross Prints, one of the first things we decided was that we wanted it to feel like a giant coloring book--a big pad of paper that was full of potential, with pages you could rip out and stick on the fridge with magnets. This was one of the reasons, in fact, that we decided to print the last 32 pages of the book with full color illustrations and perforate them...so you can rip out the pages and do with them as you please. Make an origami rose, write a note with a Sharpie, wrap a very special gift, fold a very special paper airplane, or, literally, stick the piece of paper on the fridge with magnets. The choice is utterly up to you.

It was in this childlike spirit of excitement that, when the printed book arrived on my desk, I picked it up and (I kid you not) gave the cover a little kiss. It was just so cute! Green unicorns, guys! And orange wildflowers on page one. And newspaper boats, and a DVD in the back that contains all of this art. ALL of it.

You may be wondering, what the hell IS this book? And for you, I will explain.

Heather Ross is an illustrator and fabric designer and the author of the wonderful book Weekend Sewing. For this book, she decided to share 50 of her most popular illustrations and fabric designs in both jpeg and PDF format so that YOU, my friends, can upload the artwork to a place like Spoonflower and print out as many yards of this fabric as you like. Or you can make your own stationery or paper crafts with her designs. Or you can wallpaper with unicorns or decoupage with little cowgirls. And she also gives you twenty awesome step-by-step projects that walk you through how to take that DVD and turn the artwork into impossibly cute and special creations.

(She also wrote a whole chapter showing you how you can create your own really cute designs in Photoshop, but I don't even need to tell you that because I know I already have you excited with the unicorns.)

It's a really special book. And it will be available on September 1.

Also, I'm in it! (Apron model EXTRAORDINAIRE!)

Glaze Changes Everything

Dear Friends,
A lot has happened since we last discussed pottery! Remember how I decided to take a pottery class because I've been editing a pottery book and I needed to discover with my own two hands how the heck you make a pot? Well, somehow or other, my ten week class has come and gone. I seem to recall that there was a period in the beginning when I was making very good pots, and then I was making REALLY BAD pots, and then Aimee re-taught me how to center the clay on the wheel and things started looking good again. On one epic pottery day, I decided to have a mimosa on my way to class after a rotten day at work, and let me tell you, that was the best class of my life (so relaxed!). But even after all the fun I had coming to class and throwing pots each week, nothing really compares to the day you show up and your glazed pots are waiting for you on the "just fired" shelf. 

These were two of the first pots I ever glazed, and I could not get over how cheerful they were! And deliciously imperfect! The little yellow one in back has a chip in its lip, and the blue one is nine kinds of wonky, but just look at how the glaze reflects the light from the window. (Oh, little blue finger bowl, I could totally get lost in your eyes...)

But all blues are not the same, and in the case of this particular little blue finger bowl, I used a matte turquoise glaze. I love how the drips from the glaze create these areas of depth, almost like navy blue asphalt.

 

This little creamer is my absolute pride and joy. It was created on the day of the mimosa in a moment of extreme bravery. (When you throw a lovely little bud vase, it takes a lot of courage to convince yourself it's a good idea to crease the rim and turn it into a spout. Thank God Aimee was there to walk me through it!)

There were, of course, some not-so great pieces. That little cherry-red pot on the bottom left is, well, not exactly the most symmetrical pot I've ever seen in my life. And the cream-colored pot above it is a miserable little receptacle...the stepchild of the bunch. But all of my little pots--even the ugly ones--fall perfectly into my theme of "Mediterranean Finger Foods," which is a dinner party I must now host in celebration of completing my class. I have a few more pots to finish up this weekend--and a few of them I have already declared "the ugliest pottery anyone has ever seen in their life"--but I couldn't resist sharing a selection of my glazed pots with you now.

A Day at Simon's Pottery Barn

  

As is the case with all craft books, the time comes when it must be photographed. In most cases, the process of organizing a photo shoot is the most anxiety-filled part of making a book. I think it has something to do with how quickly it must be done. And how this is your "one shot" to get it right. And there are so many things that can go wrong, like bad weather, or clothes that don't fit, or models that have totally different hair than they had in their head shots (or models that just don't show up). Thankfully, the photo shoot for the pottery book I am editing for STC Craft--Simon Leach's Pottery Handbook--had none of these problems. In fact, it was one of the most serene and lovely photo shoots I have ever attended. And that's really saying something.

Here's why:

1) I hired Jared Flood (aka Brooklyn Tweed) to shoot the book and Karen Schaupeter to style it. Aside from being insanely talented, both of these people are professional when needed, and a total hoot the rest of the time. Plus, they are excellent road trip buddies!

2) There were no models, no make-up or hair stylists, no assistants, no wardrobe, no props, nothing. Just simple, guerrilla shooting at its finest.

3) Simon lives way out in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania (on what I cannot stop referring to as a Pottery Barn). There were green growing things and old stone houses, handmade bridges and abandoned refineries, wildflowers and rain. It was lush and lovely.

4) There were pots....lots and lots of pots...strewn about, sitting in rows, stacked one atop the other, some glazed, some freshly thrown, some bisqued. All of them, absolutely gorgeous. Even after two days, I was still finding new treasures on the shelves.

When we first arrived, Jared had barely parked the car before he leapt out and started snapping pictures. It was all so picturesque that I think we all worried it was going to evaporate into the mist like Brigadoon. After Jared snapped some environmental pics and got it out of his system, Simon brewed us a pot of coffee (served in his homemade mugs, of course) and we turned our attention to the shoot list.

 

Karen got to work creating still-life arrangements.

 

And when Simon wasn't busy throwing pots for us to photograph (very much like a short-order cook), and when Bruce wasn't busy answering my many questions about what we actually included in the manuscript, they busied themselves with bocci on the front lawn.  

 

Jared, I would say, had the roughest job of all. Not only did he have to hold up that camera for two days straight (no tripods here!), he also had to get in real close when we were removing pots from the raku kiln, nearly choking to death on the smoke. Luckily, he found a respirator right fast. Safety first! 

As for me? Once everything was rolling, I mostly played with this cat. After the first few shots, Jared and Karen got into a groove, so it was just a matter of approving shots and crossing items off a list, all of which can be done from a grassy spot on the lawn with a cat on your lap.

And of course, I also tried to pick up tips for my own pottery making where I could. Like studying these tutorials of the various phases of making a cylinder.

 

And admiring the perfect thinness of this porcelain bowl, wondering if my walls will ever look so peacefully uniform. As Simon would recommend, I shall "keep practicing."

(If you, too, need to keep practicing, you should really check out Simon's YouTube videos, which are mesmerizing.)

Instagram Meets the Animal Kingdom

A couple nights ago, I was stuck waiting for the G Train at Court Square. Robb and I had just come back from the city and we ran into a couple of his friends who were also on their way back to Greenpoint. While we waited for MTA to clear the body off the tracks (ok, ok...they just called it a "medical emergency," which really could be anything...let's assume some woman had a miracle baby at the Flushing stop!), me and this girl started talking about Instagram. She was all dolled up and had just come from an event where the most popular Instagram photographers in New York City were being honored. One of them was her friend. But that didn't stop me from saying something fairy uncouth, like, "But doesn't Instagram require no talent whatsoever?" OK, I didn't say it like that. I think I said, "Huh, I didn't realize that people could have careers taking Instagram photos. How interesting!" Yes, it was definitely something nicer like that. 

Out of curiosity, I asked if her friend had any photography background. Maybe he is an expert in composition? Lighting? Nope, the guy has had no photography training at all. He just got really into taking Instagram photos and lots of people started following him and now his work is lauded at champagne events. Fascinating!

Truth be told, I had just the week before caught up with the 21st century and downloaded the app on my phone. (And just a month before that, I buried my Blackberry and got an Iphone.) I am pretty far behind the times and I still don't understand half of the functions on my phone. But I must confess this: I not only understand Instagram....I LOVE it.

My photos--like, the kind I take on a real camera--are not great. My husband, who went to school for photography, has probably explained the concept of ISO to me 32 times. I have retained none of what he has taught me. I like to shoot things really really really close up, so you don't even know what they are. The horizon is often iffy. My sense of lighting is deplorable. The adjective I would first choose to describe my photos is "grainy." The second would be "underwater." So, it is fairly amazing to me that a device exists where I can take a mediocre photo and then make it look interesting. Give me your filters, give me your frames. Lighting schmiting...I'll Instagram it! 

So this last weekend, I went out to take photos of some bags I made. They have little whales on them! Isn't that cute? And after Robb took a whole bunch on the camera, I had him take a few on the phone. Once I Instagrammed them, the photos were suddenly transformed! They had personality. The daylight had depth. The bag had a shape and a story. A quick trip to the park had suddenly turned into what looked, on my screen anyway, like a memorable day.

This shit is magic.

So...I'm late, it's a fad, and I'm not really convinced that there is much talent involved other than picking an interesting subject matter to photograph and a filter that flatters the shot. But I'm a fan. And now you know how I feel about Instagram.

Incidentally, I put up photos of the two blue bags on Etsy and they both sold that night! (The red one, above, is still available...if red corduroy whales are your thing. And you know they totally are.) But I'm thinking that I may have finally found the winning formula: make animal-themed bags, take photos on the phone, and then transform them on Instagram.

Speaking of which, what has four legs, a trunk, and feathers? Possibly the new HeyAllday Handmade palette.