Your Man

So, as I said in my last post- My big sister has tied the knot! Since she’s my one and only sibling, and therefore by default- my favourite sister, I knew I had to put in a lot of effort into the wedding present. Just buying her some quilt covers would not do.

I decided the whole ‘international’ theme would be a good one to go by- so I wanted to do something distinctly British. If she was going to be getting married to a foreigner, away from the homeland- then she’d sure as heck have to be reminded of the little island she grew up on with me. When the inspiration finally hit, I realised how obvious it was. Royal Weddings. You can’t get more British than Charles and Diana’s wedding memorabilia. A nation obsessed by one couple, every time you go into a charity shop over here, you can rely on finding at least a mug with a classic Chaz and Di wedding design on. I did a quick google search and found this; my starting point.

And this? My finishing:

As the astute amongst you can see- it’s very different from the inspiration, and not just because it’s embroidered. I decided I had to make it at least a little Australian… Didn’t want Mister Sister getting uppity.

I swapped all the standard leaves for Eucalyptus leaves, and I swapped a bouquet of thistles for a waratah, a native Austrlian flower. I made the mistake of using Bullion knots, and lots of them, to depict the bizarre texture of a waratah. It took me ages, but everyone who saw it recognised them straight away- so a little victory for me there.

One of the changes I was most happy with was changing The Prince of Wales feathers for Archaeopteryx feathers. Mister Sister is a palaeontologist, and loves Archaeopteryxs the most. I asked him what colour “Archeop-whatever feathers” were, but being big and clever he just sent me a text he’d written for Uni and basically just fobbed me off with the whole “your guess is as good as mine” excuse. Helpful. I went for dark blue and maroon.

I’m quite proud of my acorns. They’re pretty cute, huh?

And finally, on the original the words ‘Ich Dien’ are inscribed. I did a little research to find out what they meant, and according to Yahoo Answers, it means ‘I serve’. Well, as if that was getting by on a wedding present to my sister. I discovered it was derived from ‘Eich Dyn’ or ‘Your Man’. And yeah. That’ll do.

I embroidered it all on a table cloth I’d bought from a charity shop, that had already been embroidered by someone who really liked flowers and bows. The embroidery itself is about A2 size, but the table cloth is bigger. It was hung where the reception was taking place, and it became quite a talking point, and dancing-infront-of-point too. In the grand tradition of weddings, here’s Father of The Bride dancing. My excuse for posting this photograph is a size comparison shot.

But I don’t really need an excuse, do I?

Courage

A while ago I sent this piece to Valued Sony Customer, a fellow Phat Quarter lassy.

It upsets me that in this day and age, to keep yourself natural is courage… but I feel that those amongst us who do, with their heads held high, ought to be commended for it all the same. This one’s for you, ladies.

To further illustrate my point, a couple of bits:

Firstly, one of my favourite pieces of feminist grafitti activism:

http://jumpoffthebridge.com/2009/04/as-long-as-theres-no-hair.html

Secondly, a link to a frankly terrifying advert for a bikini trimmer and a very interesting thread of comments:

http://www.feministing.com/archives/014633.html

Tears before show time.

For the past 12 weeks, or something, I’ve been working on my Final Major Project which signifies the end of my time at Swindon College, and with it, education in Swindon. This project is more special than the past ones, this one gets exhibited and is open to the public.

I’ve done my project on faith, and entitled it Beatific Visions, and it has culminated in a shrine to human life. I put up my show on Wednesday. I was happy with it on Wednesday. Today, however, was another story.

I went along to Kembrey Park, the place where the show is held, and this time round other students work was up. I had a look around, and ran into a few people. “Is your work ironic? It’s just your last stuff was feminist and now this is… feminine.” “My mum’ll like your work.” “I didn’t see your work anywhere?” and then I returned to my own show, and looked properly. I sat on the floor infront of it and I realised it was missing something major: me.

It’s well stitched. It’s humourous. It’s pretty. It’s twee. It’s totally inoffensive… it’s boring. It does nothing to grab any attention, and it never would have, I just hadn’t realised before. I went to find my favourite tutor to ask him his opinion. He told me to talk him through it. I was stuck for words. I had nothing interesting to say. Completely disappointed in myself, I couldn’t help but cry. I’m not relying on this project to get a good grade, I don’t need one- I’m going to Uni whatever happens. But I want one. Because I’ve worked hard.

John was helpful. “Dooon’t cry, I cannae stand to see ye cry” He looked through my portfolio with me and asked if there was anything in there I could put up next to it, to counter balance. We ended up settling on a project that I had had difficulty with at the time. I liked only 50% of it and was embarrassed by the rest. But he talked me round, he’s very persuasive, I MTFU’d and we nailed into the chipboard a Viva La Vulva Banner and three pairs of knickers embroidered with vulvas and painted with stains. And suddenly, we have something that creates intrigue.

I’m bending the rules by displaying non FMP work but I certainly haven’t broken enough rules this project, so I better had start somewhere.

Every dog has its day

Wondering when mine’ll be.

This is the best day.

I got to vote for the Green Party, and I got Stitchgasmed by Beefranck over on Mr X Stitch.

To celebrate, have a photograph of a woman with a couple of dogs outside the Saatchi Gallery. Taken on May 2nd 2009.

A little monogram

For my friend’s birthday (which I think is today- Happy Birthday Hannah!) I made her this little monogram (although for the pedants out there, it’s actually a cipher) complete with a winged insect and the year of her birth (aren’t we young?!)

Hannah is a friend from my college course. She does illustration and does the most wonderful mixed media pieces which can be seen over on her flickr.

I took the pattern for the little critter from the extensive pattern selection on the Antique Pattern Library (which is my favourite internet discovery since I finally ventured over to ravelry) and this was in one of the ‘Alpahabet de la Brodeuse’ PDFs. The pattern for the numbers also came from that same PDF. Too lazy to look in others…

I searched for the pattern for the main font long and hard. It’s one of those that you see lots of cross stitchers using and want to do it for yourself, but don’t know where to look. Well, I found it right here and will return to it in the not so distant future I am sure.

Does anybody know how to frame cross stitch pieces in frames like that? (Or other frames) because I’m totally at a loss. I just cut around the outside which I am pretty much certain is the wrong thing to do. Anyone gasping at the thought of me being a philistine? Wanna help?

Surely I am one of the most miserable objects that ever the Lord let live!

I took a trip to London earlier in the week. It was a college trip, with the aim being to go around London on our own and gather primary research for our Final Major Projects. My project being based on faith, I chose to visit the National Gallery and St Martins in The Fields, and the techniques I’ll be focusing on being hand embroidery- I had to visit the V&A.

Before I set off I used the V&A’s brilliant website to find things to look at on my visit. Having a total adoration for samplers, I was immediately drawn to this sampler from the 19th Century. From the website, I didn’t expect much of it beyond the standard samplers. I thought it may be a bit more personal, but certainly wasn’t prepared for what I found.

It was tucked away in the corner of the textile collection room. It was hung on the wall, but it was in the dark and certainly had to be hunted out. But once you found it, what a treasue!

The piece is 1600+ words detailing a woman’s struggle with her temptation to kill herself, and what that meant in her Christian upbringing. She also tells us how people she worked for threw her down the stairs and how Christ was her salvation.

There is not one punctuation mark in the entire sampler. It’s quite a challenge to read. There’s also several spelling mistakes- but I guess that all adds to the charm? Being a total masochist, I decided to write down in a little notebook every word of the thing, so now I can tell you all, O loyal blog readers, exactly what it says.

(—-X—- is the end of a line in the original piece)

As I cannot write I put this down simply and freely as I might speak to a person whose intimacy and tenderness I can fully intrust myself and who I know will bear with all my weaknesses —-X—-I was born at Ashburnham in the county of Sussex in the year 1813 of poor but pious parents my fathers occupation was a labourer for the Rt Hon the Earl of A my mother kept the Rt Hon —-X—- the countels of A charity school and great industry were enabled to render a comfortable living for their family which were eleven in number William Samuel Mary —-X—- Edmond Jesse Elizabeth Hannah Jane George Louisa Lois endeavouring to bring us up in the fear and admonition of the Lord as far as lay in their power always giving us good advice and wishing us —-X—- to do unto others as we would they should do unto us thus our parents pointed out the way in which we were to incounter with this world wishing us at all times to put our trust in God to —-X—-
walk in the paths of virtue to bear up under all the trials of this life even till time with us should end But at the early age of thirteen I left my parents to go and live with Mr and Mrs P to —-X—- nurse the children which had taken my fathers and mothers advice might have remained in peace until this day but like many others not knowing when I was well of in fourteen months I left —-X—- then for which my friends greatly blamed me then I went straight to Fairlight housemaid to lieut Q but there cruel usage soon made me curse my disobedience to my parents wishing I had taken —-X—- there advice and never left the worthy family of P but then alas to late they treated me with cruelty to horrible to mention for trying to avoid the wicked design of my master I was thrown —-X—- down stairs but I very soon left them and came to my friends but being young and foolish I never told my friends what had happened to me they thinking I had had a good place and good —-X—- usage because I never told them to the contrary they blamed my temper then I went to live with Col P Catsfield kitchenmaid where I was well of but there my memory failed me and my —-X—- reason was taken from me but the worthy lady my mistress took great care of me and placed me in the care of my parents and sent for Dr W. who soon brought me to know that I was —-X—- wrong for coming to me one day and finding me persisting against my mother for I had fosaken her advice to follow the works of darkness for I acknowledge being guilty of the great sin —-X—- of self destruction which I certainly should have done had it not been for the words of that worthy gentleman Dr W. who came to me in the year 1829 he said unto me Elizabeth I understand —-X—- you are guilty of saying you shall destroy yourself but never do that for remember Elizabeth if you do when you come before that great god who is so good to you he will say unto you —-X—- thou hast taken that life that I gave to you depart from me ye cursed into everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels for the impression it has made on my mind no tongue can —-X—- tell depart from me ye cursed but let me never hear those words pronounced by thee O Lord for surely I never felt such impressions of awe striking cold upon my breast as I felt when Dr —-X—- W said so to me but O with what horror would those words pierce my heart to hear them pronounced by an offended God but my views of things have been for sometime very different —-X—- from what they were when they first came home I have seen and felt the vanity of childhood and youth and above all I have felt the stings of a guilty conscience for the great disobedience —-X—- to my parents in not taking their advice wherewith the Lord has seen fit to visit me with this affliction but my affliction is a light affliction to what I have deserved but the Lord has —-X—- been very merciful unto me for he has not cut me of in my sins but he has given me the space for repentance for blessed be God my frequent schemes for destroying myself were all —-X—- most all defeated but O the dreadful powerful force of temptation for being much better I went to stay with Mrs Welham she being gone out one day and left me alone soon after —-X—- she was gone I thought within myself surely I am one of the most miserable objects that ever the lord let live surely never no one had such thoughts as me against the Lord and I —-X—- arose from my seat to go into the bedroom and as I was going I thought within myself ah me I will retire into the most remotest part of the wood and there execute my design and that —-X—- design was that willful design of self destruction but the Lord was pleased to stop me on this mad career for seeing the bible lay upon my shelf I took it down and opened it and the first —-X—- place that I found was the fourth chapeter of S. Luke were it tells us how our blessed lord was tempted of Satan I read it and it seemed to give me some relief for now and not till —-X—- now I have been convinced of my lost and sinful state not till now I have seen what a miserable condition I have brought myself into by my sins for now do I see see myself lost and and undone —-X—- forever undone unless the lord do take pity of me and help me out of this miserable condition but the only object I have now in view is that of approaching death but I feel assured —-X—- but sooner or later I must die and Oh but after death I must come to judgement what can I do to be saved what can I do to be saved from the wrath of that god which my —-X—- sins have deserved which way can I turn O wither must I flee to find the Lord wretch wretch that I am who shall deliver me from the body of this death that I have been —-X—- seeking what will become of me ah me me what will become of me when I come to die and kneel before the Lord my maker oh with what context can I approach the mercy —-X—- seat of God oh with what confidence can I approach it and with what words must I chuse to address the Lord my maker pardon mine iniquity pardon mine iniquity O lord to —-X—- it is great oh how great is thy mercy oh thou most merciful Lord for thou knowest even the secret desires of me thine and worthy servant Oh Lord I pray the look down with an —-X—- eye of pity upon me and I pray that the turn my wicked heart day and night have I cried unto the lord to turn my wicked heart the lord has heard my prayer the lord has given —-X—- heed for my complaint for as long as life extends extends hope blest dominion never ends for while the lamp holds onto burn the greatest sinner may return life is the season —-X—- God has given to fly from hell to rise to heaven the day of grace flees fast away there is none its rapid course can stay the living know that they must die but ah the dead —-X—- forgotten lie their memory and their name is gone they are alike unknowing and unknown their hatred and their love is lost their envies buried into the dust by the will of God ah —-X—- all the things done beneath the circuit of the sun therefore O Lord take pity on me I pray whenever my thoughts do from the stray and lead me Lord to thy blest fold that I thy —-X—- Glory may behold grant Lord that I soon may behold the not as my judge to condemn and punish me as my father to pity and restore me for I know with the O Lord no- —-X—- thing is impossible thou can if thou wilt restore my bodily health and set me free from sin and misery for since my earthly physician has said he can do no more for me in the will —-X—- I put my trust O blessed Jesus grant that I may never more offend the or provoke the to last me of in thy displeasure forgive as my sins my folly cure grant me the help I need —-X—- and then although I am mean and poor I shall be rich indeed Lord Jesus have mercy upon me take me O Kind Shepherd take me a poor wandering sinner to thy Fold thou art Lord —-X—- of all things death itself is put under thy feet O Lord save me lest I fall from thee never to rise again O God keep me from all evil thoughts the little hope I feel that I shall obtain —-X—- mercy gives a happiness to which more of the pleasured of sin can ever be compared I never knew anything like happiness till now O that I may but be saved on the day of judge- —-X—- ment God be merciful to me a sinner but Oh how can I expect mercy who went on in sin until Dr W. remind me of my wickedness for which shame I own I returned to thee O —-X—- God because I had nowhere else to go how can such repentance as mine be sincere what will become of my soul.

A Love Story

I am slowly developing a disturbing fascination, adoration and total obsession. Most girls my age love two things: Shoes and Johnny Depp. I, however have set my sights elsewhere. I love eggs. I’m not talking about eating them, they’re not so special- although they do help cakes along somewhat. I just love how they look and what they are and how they feel and their perfect weight sitting in your hand. They are utterly delightful.

I’ve been harbouring this love for a while, not wanting to spill- but yesterday I bought a box of eggs from Sainsburys and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. These eggs are totally beautiful. They’re Clarence Court’s Burford Browns. And boy, are they ever brown.

I picked them up because they were free range, and then when I opened up the box and saw the little crown stamp each egg displays proudly I popped them into my basket instantly. It wasn’t till I opened them up this morning to make a cake that I suddenly realised the quality of the eggs themselves.

And the yolk! Oh the yolk. Such a very deep orange colour. I popped one into my cake batter, which at that point was a virginal white- and after a few mixes it became a pastel orange. I’ve never noticed eggs depart their colour in that way.

Now, all this egg-love is leading somewhere, don’t worry. It’s not just an egg review. It brings me to a project I completed a long time ago now- in late September/October I think. It was for our two week introduction to textiles at Swindon College, which is not an experience I’d gladly repeat. We were asked to bring in a vessel that we found interesting as a starting point. So I bought an egg in. We then had to incorporate another vessel into it, and create a textile version of it. And so.

An egg box with an embroidered hand made felt label, stating “Four Free Range Embryos.”

That’s not it.

Four little felt eggs nestled inside… with a decoration?

A decoration indeed. Embroidered with one strand of DMC in a chain stitch onto each egg is a foetus. This one’s an elephant.

This one’s a bird (you’ve got to trust me on this one. That’s what the science books say they look like…)

A frog spawn (Cop out, I know…)

And lastly, a carelessly unstranded human foetus. I’m planning on redoing this one, maybe.

It ended up being a total waste of time. We didn’t get marked on it properly and I didn’t need to prove myself to get into textiles. I could’ve done hardly anything and waltzed in (not because I’m super talented, but because nobody cared.) Although, it is proving to excite a few university people at interviews- so maybe it hasn’t been a total waste of time?

Anyway. Eggs. Yeah. Eggs.

Pretty Things

I love charity shops. You never know when you’re going to find something truly magical in them.

Earlier in the week, I popped into my local, in the hope of finding a nice hat or cardy, and instead I found a stunning vanity mirror. It’s a beautiful shape and has lovely stitch detail for decoration. Yum!

Then this morning I found myself in a Sue Ryder care, and I happened across these two needlepoint pieces in octagonal frames. There’s a lady in pink, and then her counterpart, a gentleman in blue. Can’t wait to hang these on my wall!

In that same shop, I also found a perfectly simple clear glass cake stand. It’s been put to good use already, of course, supporting a vegan crumb cake.

In other news, I’ve been offered a place at London College of Communication to study Surface Design in September, provided I get a merit in my foundation year. I’m going to be such a small little fish in a huge pond.

Can’t get enough of me? Follow me on twitter.

Wings of Desire

Has anybody seen that film? It’s based in Berlin and it’s absolutely beautiful. It’s about angels watching over people and making them feel better when they’re down. I found myself, whilst in Berlin, looking out for the things that were in the film. Every so often I’d gasp and be filled with glee at the sight of it, and remember that there were angels all around me*, and I’d feel quite content.

For example, this section of the Berlin Wall was in the film:

I don’t want to spoil the film for anyone who hasn’t seen it, but a person in the film who was suddenly able to see colour for the first time, stopped a stranger and asked what colour bits of the wall were.

Now, you’re going to have to squint here, but can you see that small line inbetween the aisle of trees at the end?

Well, it’s the Berlin Victory Column. I couldn’t quite face walking there in the cold, rain and little time I had, which is why the photograph merely hints at it. In the film it’s where an angel sits atop and looks down at Berlin.

For the week, we’d been set a little postcard project, whereby we just had to make a little postcard. Simple as that, no sketchbooks (although, because I’m a geek I did one anyway). I decided to make mine based on my personal experience with Berlin, where I walked around on my own and dreamt of Wings of Desire. So I did a drawing of myself, with angels wings. I then padded it out with a white rose and some dome tops. But then I decided that it needed some text. I thought about “Ich Bin Eine Berliner” but eventually settled on “Ich Bin Eine Kind” Or, “I am a child” in reference to the poem used throughout the film, ‘Song of Childhood’ by Peter Handke. Because I did, I felt exactly like a child, lost and in awe of everything there. I then made a stupid decision to do a woodblock print of the postcard, rather than just draw it on. What an absolute trial.

At least it looks nice.