Zigzag or Detour?

I made the Zigzag pattern - both pieces - back in 2008. I made them in coordinating linen fabrics, one solid for the jeans, and the other a lighter weight cross-dyed linen. In January of this year, the Detour jacket was issued as part of the 2020 Sew Confident series from Sewing Workshop. All of this was before Covid-19, of course.

In my mind's eye, my original attempt was lovely. Unfortunately the pants were a bit snug and then I gained weight (!). The shirt was too voluminous for the light-weight linen I selected and the wrinkles were just too much. Both pieces are long absent from my closet.

The Zigzag was and is a lovely style and silhouette. The slim jeans are a perfect pairing with the large topper. As you can see above, the jeans have interesting lines and there are zips down the lower back. It was a very cool design. I'm sorry I did not pursue the pattern further in 2008. So much potential there.

The top has a unique collar/yoke that is fun to make. Here is how it looks before attaching the back.

And here is how it looks when folded into position. The back is still missing here:

And the hem swings a bit lower in the back. There is also an inverted pleat in the back. I got distracted and constructed my pleat backwards, but it looks fine, I think, and I don't want to tear into the silk to fix it.

Although this is exactly the same pattern (I had to print the Detour jacket and piece it all together and then place the original on top to believe it), I had one of those duh moments. Well, yes, it makes a cool swing jacket. I simply chose the wrong fabric for version 1.

You know, I think sometimes that the main reason I love, love, love the Sewing Workshop stuff is the way they style things. Yes, I like most of the patterns, but it's the styling that maintains my interest.

I was a tiny bit miffed at the effort I engaged to download and use this pattern, given its existence in my stash. I mean, of course, I recognized it, but I thought that they had made some changes to it. But, no, it is identical.

And yet, I had great fun making it again. And I really like the result.

The fabric is a piece gifted by a non-sewing friend. She bought it sometime in the way past and cannot remember anything about it. It seems to be silk, based on a couple of burn tests. It may be drapery weight, as it is crisp and the crisp does not wash out. It has a lovely tone-on-tone raised stripe. It does not wrinkle and is very light to wear. The color is not part of my usual color range, but I kind of like it. A lot.

I am sad to report that I screwed up the top button (isn't that always the one to screw up?!?) but it still looks darned good, I think.

At the moment there is a snap there with an unusual button sewn to the outside. Now I don't like snaps much, but this is a pretty good fix for now.

The one and only time I've worn it is in the above picture from Sew Kansas with Sarah Campbell and Linda Lee. It was such great fun and I'm happy that it happened before the world shut down around us.

I feel lucky to be able to sew almost every day. I've made a gazillion masks and will blog about that soon. But I've also made a few other satisfying little bits and pieces.

They like it when I assemble downloadable patterns.

Here is my latest attempt to discourage our new kitties from destroying the furniture.

Good Friday

Each year, for the last few years, I've approached Easter with thoughts of one station of the cross. This year, though different due to the world-wide covid-19 pandemic, I return to the rhythm of my Lenten preparation. For me, and other artists in my church, St Patrick's Episcopal Church, this is a time of meditating, visualizing, and actualizing a depiction of one station of the cross.

As you may know, stations of the cross are a tradition in many Christian churches. I think the goal of the tradition is to remember Christ in his darkest period, a time when he knew what was next, and his closest friends could not fathom the days to come. There are several versions of the Stations with differing numbers of stations. This year, ours has 14 stations.

I chose Station 11, the repentant thief. It is based on this passage from Luke 23:

42. Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."
43. Jesus answered him, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise."

My journey began with a trip to the High Museum. One of the art leaders at St Pat's took a group of us there and taught me (us?) a new way to visit a museum. She explained that the viewer of art completes the art, and so we are all participants, and without us, no piece of art is complete. She also encouraged us to sit with a piece for a while and be still.

The piece that spoke loudest to me was Stefan Bondell's "Pyramid."

Dark, isn't it? It's huge and sits in a room with an audio installation that sounds like a Gregorian chant. Commanding. Not pretty. Not pretty at all.

It's a trinity, of sorts, and references the 3 Abrahamic religions - Islam on the lower left, Judaism on the lower right, and wait, what's that at the top? The closer I looked, the less I wanted to look, but I also felt drawn in, inexplicably.

The top of this pyramid is based on a well-known depiction of our (USA) atrocities committed in Abu Gharib in 2003. So, no, this is not a pretty picture. The image stayed with me and I began to imagine the three on the cross, only not crosses. Instead I imagined them posed on boxes, dressed in rags, heads covered (it would have been harder to ignore their humanity without covering their faces), and wires extending from parts of their bodies.

I thought, yes, this will become my station.

But I could not do it. I mean, I could sketch, I could add a little paint, but then nothing. When covid-19 reared its head, I gave up and listened to my need for nurture and beauty.

In the past, I've sketched and painted but then transformed the idea into cloth. This year, I decided to paint my station. It was a leap. I have never worked so large and it was a learning activity for sure.

my husband's right hand

I like drawing hands; I took my time playing with hand images.

And I was enjoying the now-flowering Dogwood near my deck.

This is a small (8x11)  mock-up that I later ruined in order to learn some techniques.

Many times, I was ready to wad it up and go back to cloth, something I know well. I could not start another painting, as I had the one piece of watercolor paper this size. So I continued. There are some aspects of it that are not pleasing to me, but not enough to trash it. More than that, I'm satisfied with it. It suits my need for beauty at this dark time in the history of our planet.

I was introduced to Dogwood trees when I moved to Atlanta in 1989. They are beautiful and usually arrive at the beginning of spring, foreshadowing of the riot of color on its way. And, as it happens, there is a Christian tradition associated with the Dogwood tree, with its strong, lean branches and delicate flowers. According to the legend, the cross of Christ was constructed from Dogwood.

And the story in Luke is full of beauty and hope. Hope for new beginnings, even while observing the darkest day in the Christian calendar.

With all the restrictions, of course, we cannot hang our stations in the church this year. I am so pleased that our director of communications put together a web site containing each piece with the accompanying narrative. It's not as powerful as the starving artists' dinner we usually have where we share our artistic journeys, but it is a nice way to document the stations for 2020. If you are interested, you may see them here:

https://stpatsart.com/stations-of-the-cross/

Also, if you would like to see our stations from 2019, and if you are interested in a meditation on Good Friday, I encourage you to watch this video narrated by the youth of my church. They put it together for today, and used images from last year's stations:

https://www.facebook.com/stpatdunwoody/videos/157585615546928/

I hope you are well. I am dreaming of new beginnings.

The patterns that are always true*

Liminal: an adjective meaning something that occupies a transitional space, that space right at the border between something that was, and something that will be. Sewing is my meditation and my prayer, my best shot at just being.

Drawing and painting work that way for me too. But today I'm sewing. I'm sewing these pants, wonderful comfortable spring-like pants.

The fabric is linen in a narrow stripe that reads gray. The darker threads are blue but the effect is gray, I think. It is a lovely piece of fabric, perhaps a bit stiff for this billowy pattern, but that's OK. It works for me. Today. Now. I'm working hard to eliminate that thought, that cliche, do these pants make me look fat?

I added a patch pocket, as I often do to finished pants. I would never tuck in a blouse with these pants (or any others) and so I don't need a beautiful pocket, but I like a useful one. This sits close to the waistband and is almost invisible unless I use it. I'm not sure why, but I don't think of it until I've finished pants.

The pattern is the Hudson pants pattern from the Sewing Workshop, one I've used a lot. I haven't put the darts in, choosing instead to add an inverted pleat to each side.

I faced the hem with a 2" wide bias strip of cotton to give it a bit of weight.

I fussed a bit over the waistband, happily reworking it 3 times. The Hudson pants pattern includes a cut-on waistband. This is problematic because of the typical changes I make to accommodate my shape. The top edge of the pants is so off-grain that a cut-on waistband is hard to neatly fold. Why bother? This time, I remembered to eliminate it. I added a waistband cut with the lengthwise grain of this wonderful stripe.

Top is the Cottage Shirt.

The side seams are straight up and down, so I eliminated those too, making what Louise Cutting calls One Seams. 

 That's it. Just a comfortable pair of pants to wear today. Now.

Top is the MixIt Top

*This title comes from a recent (and challenging) post by Richard Rohr, alluding to the layered way I experience sewing. 

Now Sewing, for sure

Sarah Campbell
with a muslin she painted during my workshop

Welcome to the new world. It has now been a week since the corona virus changed the world. Of course, it's been coming for a while, but now we are all feeling it, I think. 

I hope you are safe and well and spending lots of time creatively. Sewing and other making keeps me sane and cheerful. So far. Perhaps you are finding that too.

Sarah has a fun sense of style. 

Like so many of you, I have a bit of a stash. Now is definitely the time to be sewing, isn't it. And I happen to have a few new pieces in said stash.

Striped linen, Japanese cotton crepe, plus two Sarah Campbell designs for Michael Miller

A few weeks ago, I was thrilled to attend another Sew Kansas in Topeka with Linda Lee of The Sewing Workshop (TSW). This one was very special because Linda brought in the delightful and amazing Sarah Campbell from her home in England.

Sarah's design for Michael Miller fabrics

Sarah is a well-known print designer with impressive credentials. She and her sister Susan Collier created together for over 50 years before Susan died. They created prints for Liberty of London, for example. Lately, Sarah has created designs for home goods found in West Elm.

Another of Sarah's designs for Michael Miller fabrics

For an entire week we created pattern, as Sarah called it. We started with plain newsprint, then muslin, and finally some fabric of our choice from the Sewing Workshop. We played with shape and color and repetition, all areas where Sarah is expert. It was loads of fun.

one of my muslin pieces

For my workshop design, I chose some wonderful light gray linen from TSW. It is one of those really good linens. You know the kind. Perfect weight, soft after washing and drying, lovely to sew, and a dream to wear.

another of my painted muslin pieces

I chose the Cottage Shirt pattern for my workshop piece in the linen.

But then I got cold feet. So, instead of painting the linen, I painted my paint shirt. I needed more practice. It was a fun project without any worries or second guessing.

If you look carefully, you may be able to see that I spelled out my name.

You may have noticed that my aesthetic is a a bit different from Sarah's. I do love Sarah's wildly exuberant style but that kind of painting takes a lot more practice than I've had. And I'm OK with simpler designs, in general.

Linda Lee, Sarah Campbell, and me!

Next I began to paint on the linen. 

My idea was to rough-cut pieces that could be re-cut when I was home. It was not a bad idea, exactly, because it's a lot easier to manage small pieces in shared spaces. I did not have the actual pattern with me and so made rough guesses as to the size of the pieces, based on a finished sample from TSW. 

Once I was home and had washed and dried the pieces, I began to cut out the Cottage shirt. Except for the cuffs, nothing fit! I had to completely rethink the pattern placement. This is what I thought the front might look like. I thought I would make the Cottage as a pull-over, perhaps with a front placket.

Here is the actual front:

Likewise, here is what I thought the back would be:

And here is the actual back:

Something else happened that surprised me, but should not have. Maybe it's more accurate to say it disappointed me. The color faded quite dramatically. I feel certain that the color attached to whatever sizing was in the linen and then washed away.

It's finished now. But I may go back in and paint some more, now that the sizing is gone. I'm running a little experiment with a washed scrap so that I can compare the results You can see in the picture the pre-washed paint (black and red swirls at the bottom), and the new paint I added at home. We'll see!

For now, I'm quite happy with this piece. I really like the cottage shirt and the linen feels great. Of course, for now, I'm all dressed up with no place to go.