The power of making and creating

Regular readers will perhaps recall how for me one of the most important things about making and creating is the weaving of experience and memory into the finished product. I love the way that the evanescence of experience, the ephemerality of memory, can be stitched together into something concrete and lasting, an artefact which can encapsulate a particular time and place.

I saw some of this in action today when I was lucky enough to be invited to the hallowed halls of the V&A to a preview of their new exhibition, Power of Making, which opens 6 September. On Radio Four this morning I heard an interview with one of the makers in this exhibition, Captain Casdagli, 'the only male member of the Chelsea Ladies sewing group'. His Tree of Life embroidery, an exuberant and colourful work featuring quotations from Rudyard Kipling, sits alongside his father's more sombre cross stitch produced whilst he was a prisoner of the Germans in World War II.

Father and son needlework

The latter work features motifs of swastika, hammer and sickle, eagle and lion, as well as a duplication of odd shapes something between a pagoda and a rocket, but given an ecclesiastical air by the crosses either end. The colours are dark, and in the barely visible dots and dashes of the enclosed borders Major Casdagli embroidered a subversive message only legible to those who could read Morse code: 'God save the King, F*** Hitler'. Cross stitch might seem a haven for all that is cute and homely, but its potential for anger and subversion is quite evident here. Another combination of memory and making is the Bosnian women's memorial kilim, recording those whom they have loved and lost, an intensely emotional piece which highlights the tragedy of loss, and contains it within something domestic and mundane, quite the opposite of the massive public edifices of stone which we associate with such memorials, yet no less the powerful for being in such a homespun medium.

The Power of Making exhibition, mounted in association with the Crafts Council, features a huge range of media, methods and materials, and transcends the boundaries of art and science, craft and technology. Familiar crafts are used in unfamiliar ways like Shauna Richardson's amazing crocheted 'Crochetdermy Bear', or Peter Butcher's machine embroidered surgical implant - shaped like a snowflake it provides multiple attachment points for surgeons, with beauty and utility combined.

Yes, the knitting really is that big

There a gigantic piece of Aran knitting, by Christien Meindertsma, made using 18 sheep's worth of wool, and a Fendi bag needlepoint kit for the aspirational needlewoman. I was also amused by the lacemakers of Koniakow who went from making ecclesiastical garments to rather funky lace G-strings (there is a lace fence, too).

Upwardly mobile needlepoint

There are frequently several examples of similar artefacts, from different places and using different materials - three wildly differing coffins from willow to truly wild; bicycles in wood, in diamanté; a spray-on dress (strictly for the more youthful figure), one made of recycled cassette tape, and a beautiful but poignant widow dress made from dressmaker's pins by Susie MacMurray.

A newborn baby cake by Michelle Wibowo, and a newborn baby doll by Elaine Colbert - equally spooky and equally clever; this is a show that has something for everyone and would be good way to get your reluctant chaps and techie types through the doors of the V&A. Just tell them about the tools, and the 3D printers (quite mystifying), the 48-cylinder motorbike, and the magic Sugru hacking material which mends anything.

Not your average patchwork quilt

The curator, Daniel Charny, told us that his aim was to set aside preconceptions about categories of art, design, engineering and technology, to bring art back into a stronger relationship with technology, while valuing skill and experience. I was also given a copy of the accompanying book, Power of Making, which is a series of articles linked to the themes of the exhibition, interspersed with images of exhibits and parallel poetic responses by Patricia Rodriguez - you can see pages in the pictures above. The book is an interesting and thought-provoking read, a combination of a some looking back at the origins of the V&A in the nineteenth century as the Museum of Manufactures, a focus on contemporary issues in craft, design and technology, and a looking forward to the future.

The exhibition is free and runs until 2 January - well worth a detour, I would say, and if you go before 25 September, do go upstairs and look at 'Picturing Plants - Masterpieces of Botanical Illustration'. These little exhibitions are so easy to overlook at the V&A, but this one is a gem of an exhibition which deserves  wider publicity. There are some lovely botanical drawings as you would expect, but also beautiful examples from florilegia (decorative flower books), both of which have been important as sourcebooks in the history of design (which is why you find them in a design museum). There were wonderful seed packets and old horticultural catalogues in vivid colours with 'impossibly perfect' blooms, and Redouté's Canterbury Bells (c1787) has a luminosity and sense of fragility that catches the eye right across the room. It is labelled as an 'informal study as a gift' for a botanist friend with whom he was staying. What a gift!

Mega pegs and puppy tales

In my last post I made fleeting reference to the joy and wonder of the phenomenon of the jumbo peg, which elicited a deep-felt and earnest request from dearest Hen to know more about such things, and thus I feel impelled to elucidate.

Once again furry friends are involved and the tale smacks of shaggy dog, but loyal readers, surely you know me by now, and realize that I prefer the convoluted to the brief and succinct.

I am a Scottish terrier, and dour by nature

(I am considering Twittering, but even confining myself to 150 words seems awfully concise, so measuring my outpourings in characters of that order (I can never remember if it is 140 or 160, and I am bound to find myself cut short in full flow) seems almost an impossibility. Some of you may say that I am already twittering quite enough, and quite possibly you are in the right.)

Spot the collateral damage

The jumbo peg is an object of potentially infinite use about the household, and I am sure you will find Mrs A from West Wittering (yes, she is wittering as well as twittering) in the Lakeland catalogue telling you that she uses jumbo pegs to hold her curtains off the floor while she vacuums the carpet, and Mr B from Havering (I do that often in fabric shops) explaining that he is a new man since he discovered jumbo pegs, and that his workshop is incomplete without them.

Interesting

Personally, I have always found that there is an almost magnetic attraction between puppies and children and the mega pegs. In fact, I think that singlehandedly I have supported Lakeland on the peg sales front, so many have I bought over the years, and I was beginning to think, now my big boys no longer make camps with tarpaulins and climbing frames, or dens festooned with camouflage netting, that the mega pegs would cease disappearing out of the peg basket and into the farthest reaches of garden and orchard, never to be seen again.

Would I?

But I was wrong.

Possibly

That is one of the eternal knotty problems of family life. No sooner do you think that you have solved one of life's little nurturing issues, than another pops up in its place.

Not me, guv, no not at all

No sooner has one naughty dog stopped stealing the jumbo pegs from the basket and masticating them to smithereens as soon as your back is turned, then a Little Stranger comes scurrying into your life to snuffle in the basket and snaffle them away behind the greenhouse or under the chest of drawers outside the back door.

Chewed pegs and new pegs

(You may wonder why we have bedroom furniture in the garden - well, so do I. The Head Chef put it there to hold the shoes that were rapidly breeding and multiplying by the back door and constituting a major trip hazard for the clumsy one of the family. All I can say is that those warm dark drawers are conducive to breeding and multiplying as there are still herds and flocks of shoes around the back entrance, and now a family of footwear has set up camp in a big cardboard box next to the chest of drawers.)

So, if you remain unpersuaded of the wonders of the big, chunky peg, just buy some for your children and dogs. I can promise you that they will derive much enjoyment from them, and you could even write to Lakeland and tell them of all the interesting and life enhancing uses they have put them to. As for me, I just use them for pegging out big chunky bath mats and quilts (that is, if I actually can find the pegs when I need them).

The plumpest of them all

I am glad to report that the Princess Bunchy cushion project which started here has finally been completed, to the satisfaction of all. In between scaling the mountain of sheets which the morning brought, I pieced together the cushion of which you had a tantalizing little glimpse last week.

There was much discussion of buttons and in the late afternoon as I was amongst the peaks of the linen hills, I thought that I had finished, being under the impression that buttons were not required, being cheek denting to reposing royalty, but no, the princess insisted on exploring the farthest reaches of my button boxes and there was much in the way of pondering and setting out and rearranging and I had time to hang out more washing and wonder why small dogs have a penchant for pegs and enjoy picking my best jumbo pegs out of the basket and running off with them just when I want to peg out big chunky bathmats . . . although to find them you just have to follow the trail of chewed wooden dolly pegs to behind the greenhouse and then when you are back indoors ready to stitch on the buttons in the prescribed arrangement you find that said small dog smells, no smells is not the word, the Great Stink is what comes to mind, and then the small dog must be introduced to the concept of bathing by a princess, no less, and then you find small dog rolled up in a towel and smelling of coconut by the Aga having been carefully and royally deposited there with just a little black nose sticking out, unable to move. So then you have to release small dog from captivity being worried about the perils of rheumatism inherent in being left wrapped in a damp towel, at which point rheumaticky old dog settles herself to sleep on damp towel . . .

And then you try to remember what you were doing before the shaggy dog tale began, and oh yes, a dozen buttons to sew on a cushion which will not need many buttons . . .

But all is finished now - another lovely project from Cute and Easy Quilting and Stitching - thank you, Charlotte Liddle, and thank you, Cico Books - you have made a little princess very happy, and kept her mother happily stitching which is much more fun than grubbing around in the foothills of the laundry pile.

So there we see them, all lined up in a row - I am afraid that it is quite impossible for you to admire them in situ in the disarray of Bunchy's bedroom, for you would be quite shocked that a princess could live in such a, shall we say, busy environment, and in fact you would hardly get in through the door such is the agglomeration of artefacts on the floor, and actually it is preferable to avert one's gaze.

Much better to admire the soft furnishings sitting undisturbed in the wilds of the front garden and notice how beautifully they coordinate with each other, and how lovingly stitched they are. The regal opinion is that the John Lewis innards score highest on plumpness, a plumpness which is retained under pressure.

And if you would like to make such plump and cosy cushions for your own little princes and princesses, the one on the left was made using an Accuquilt pattern available here, and the rosette and unicorn cushions on the right were made following instructions in Charlotte Liddle's Cute and Easy Quilting and Stitching.

As for me, it's once more unto the ironing, dear friends, or maybe to the bleach, if the birds have been divebombing the washing line again . . .

Last day of August

The last day of August here in Old Blighty and the only sunshine to be seen is courtesy of the sunflowers gleaming brightly against the dull and cloudy skies.

But our meteorological woes are as nothing compared to those of our friends across the Big Pond, and to complain of a little greyness about the gills is pure frivolity.

Today I am thinking of Karen in Vermont as she sits and surveys the wasted scene which surrounds her little patch of earth which is so precious to her. Maybe you could go over and offer her a few words of comfort to fortify her soul - a small thing, but perhaps a little good deed to start the day is no bad thing for any of us.

A wiser soul than I once wrote that 'the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts' which make 'things ... not so ill with you and me as they might have been'.

And as a small and possibly cheering postscript, I did try to photograph the sparrows clustered eagerly around the sunflower seed heads, pecking away enthusiastically, but alas my tread is too heavy, my camera too lightweight, and the presence of my Little Stranger (to whom small, fluffy and fluttery means tasty morsel) by my side had a certain hampering effect.

Working and making and creating

Often, working at home means that it is difficult to draw the line between work and not-work. Notice that I don't say leisure, as I am not sure what leisure means nowadays - is gardening a hobby when you are growing your own food, and food for B&B guests to eat? Does housework count as paid work when you are cleaning the guest wing of the cottage? Are sewing and knitting leisure activities when you aren't making things to sell, but making them to use or to give rather than buy?

The poet Philip Larkin talked about not 'let[ting] the toad work squat on your life', and amongst all the different things I do to earn a crust there are some toady bits, but I prefer D H Lawrence's poem 'Work'  which recommends work that 'absorbs you like an absorbing game' - this weekend I was able to take the Lawrence approach, banish any hint of squatting toads, and lose myself in some making and creating.

It is not finished yet but just looking at the happiness colours of the fabric, and the stitches taken so gently, sitting so quietly, listening to Anthony Trollope's The American Senator (I have never read it, but I am ordering it in post haste) on Radio 4, takes me back to a Saturday afternoon out of time and fret and fever.


And even on a Monday, when the toads wake and rear their ugly, swollen heads again, at home the kitchen is filled with the pungent smell of plum chutney (recipe here), the measurable result of work which is making and creating. And it has promise for the future: the pleasure of eating, pleasure deferred, is enhanced by the memory of sowing, and growing and harvesting and chopping, in a continuum from earth to table.

There is jelly in the making, drip, drip, dripping its taste and sweetness into a bowl on the table. Tiny purple-black bush plums from the hedgerow, no work to grow, nature's bounty to harvest and store in rosy and jewel-like jars for the winter.

The tomatoes and peppers fill baskets, prolific and red - more goodness to be savoured when the plants are long gone.

And what to do with the cucumbers - don't tell me to pickle them, please, but delicious while they last.

There is work where the end is concrete and visible, not something repetitious to tick off, but cyclical and seasonal and sustaining, work to look back on and revisit and remember when the toads are long gone, squatting in their stagnant pools, bitter tasting.

I know which work I prefer . . .

Fox and hens in the orchard hexie case; or, I should have been working

Following last night's unbounded optimism, and superfluity of good things, I was determined that today of all days would be distinctly free of sludge.

So after a morning spent poring over very squinty figures, I decided that this afternoon would be fun, fun, fun, and although a rush proofreading job came in over the wires after lunch (a Good Thing for the bank balance), somehow I found myself drawn towards my sewing machine. Those enticing pieces of fabric that I had cut out whilst burning the candle at both ends were calling me, calling me - and vainly I attempted to resist their siren sound (not such a good thing for the coffers, but good for the soul).

So Slack Alice I became, I abandoned the remunerative work, and headed for the fun stuff. (I fear that I will never be a Captain of Industry at this rate.)

A pesky squirrel in the undergrowth

And so I had a wonderful time a-trimming and a-piecing, and the result is a lovely Hexie Case made from the pattern I bought from my clever friend Amy.

An upside down hexie case

Please do admire how I managed to get the directional fabrics the right way up (thanks to a handy hint in the pattern at the crucial moment) and even managed a zip (thanks to the very clear instructions and helpful photos), all quite unusual for me.

Hens in the orchard

And please do notice how in a bizarre form of transference I have managed to encapsulate my life in the cottage in hexagonal form: the hens and the orchard and the flowers and the doggy footprints and the predatory foxes creeping along the edge and even the pesky squirrels and rabbits lurking amongst the trees in the distance.

Foxes creeping along the edge

Such flights of imagination were facilitated by the lovely Anika organic fabric which I bought from Kate at M is for Make - she does a fat 16th bundle of the range for only £4.50 which I think is a perfect way to buy some coordinating bits for small projects such as this. The orchard print is Nature Walk by Cloud 9, another organic fabric, and also from M is for Make. I originally bought a range of naturalistic prints in small amounts for my Farmer's Wife quilt - as a record of my life, I particularly liked the idea of including some foxes and hens and trees in that, and I have enough left of the fat 16ths after making the Hexie Case to provide plenty of pieces for the quilt. For the lining I used a fat quarter given to me by the lovely Sarah at Red Gingham a little while ago - it coordinates rather well, has a nice gardeny feel, and not being directional was really quite relaxing.

Flowers in the garden

If you would like to make your own Hexie Case, you can find Amy's pattern here, and some really pretty examples made by her here - as she says, I think they would be perfect school pencil cases, as they are generously sized, although I think I might use mine as a sock knitting bag as it will comfortably accommodate some DPNs, yarn, and an orphan sock awaiting a sibling. Perfect presents, too, but this one I am keeping for myself, I am afraid.

Have a good weekend - may it be full of making and creating!

One good thing: a ruched happy bag

I read somewhere that the key to happiness is to finish off every day by thinking of three good things that have happened to you during the day, and it will make you even happier if you write them down.

Today having turned out to be one of those days which has involved some metaphorical trudging through sludge, I decided that I must attempt the happy route this evening. So I raked through the gloom of the day and couldn't find anything to cheer me, but then I decided to look at my photos in the hope of finding something to smile about.

And lo and behold! I found the Ruched Happy Bag I made a little while ago. The lovely Amy at During Quiet Time asked me to test her pattern (just so that she could be sure it was idiot-proof), and here is the one I made. It was the very first zippy bag that I ever made, and I feel that it turned out rather well, especially as I made it when my dear Rose was away being fettled, so I had to use the clunkiest, crankiest sewing machine I have ever encountered in all my born days (and it didn't even have a zipper foot).

It was a very lovely, easy to follow pattern (and completely Pomona-proof), and I am going to make some more, as I think a Ruched Happy Bag will make a very happy present. And I might even make one for myself, for I am sure you can guess who laid claim to the butterfly one as soon as she spotted it. If you want a pattern for yourself you can get one in Amy's shop, but I warn you, she also sells other rather tempting things (don't ask me how I know . . .).

So that is the first happy thing. And the second thing is when a Little Stranger licks your face rather than trying to chew it.

And the third thing - I have had a lovely blogger and her husband come to stay in our B&B (do go and visit Barbara at Ramblings from an English Garden, she has such a nice blog), although it was sad to see them leave our little cottage.

And I have also bought a copy of Amy's Hexie Case pattern, and the pieces are all cut out and interfaced ready to go - that's four things already, so I am on a roll.

There, I think that I am heaving myself out of the sludge, and though the last lights of the west have gone, I can almost see morning at the brown brink eastward . . .

More fun with cushions

I speak to you all from between the sheets - unfortunately, though, I am not lying down all snuggled up in bed (more's the pity), but the great tide of bedlinen has abated (I was going to say momentarily, but I now realize it means the opposite across the Pond) for just a moment, and I have been able to sneak back to sit in front of Hermione's sister and say hello, which is very cheering to the soul of a washerwoman extraordinaire.

The moments available for me to sit plying my needle have been far and fleeting, but the project to recushion my world moves on in fits and starts. You may remember the red flowery triangle number I made with my handy dandy little Go! Baby fabric cutter, while the Princess was 'enjoying' (I use the quotation marks advisedly) her sojourn at the Lowood Holiday Camp. Of course, on her return she immediately emitted covetous noises, and hoping to keep this cushion on my kitchen sofa (where it looks very fetching), I promised to make her (another) cushion of her choosing.

And so the unicorn cushion came into being - luckily those jolly nice bods at Cico Books had sent me a book which I had been hankering after for some time - Cute and Easy Quilting and Stitching by Charlotte Liddle -  and it turns out to be a jolly nice book (just as I thought) with lots of pretty things to make. Including two cushions which meet the most exacting requirements of one of the princess class, but the sheets constantly entangling me, I have just made the unicorn one to be going on with.

You will be glad to know that the Princess is most pleased with the result - she oversaw my work very carefully, and we picked out some fabrics that we used in the cushion using the Star Delight pattern which came with the Go! Baby cutter die, and added one or two extra. Being a log cabin patchwork cushion, it is a good design for using up leftovers from other projects, although I did buy a fat quarter of a figured white fabric for the background to the unicorn.

Cute and easy unicorn

You will see from the pictures that we did not follow the instructions exactly - Princess Bunchy vetoed the rosette, and I somehow forgot the lacy edging to the embroidered panel, but luckily no one noticed (I was probably thinking about sheets). We used ordinary embroidery floss rather than cotton perlé as suggested, just because of what I already had in my stash, and all the buttons and beads were from stash, too. The tail was made by plaiting embroidery floss and folding the plait in half to make a double plait, which I then couched down with little stitches and beads.

Why is my unicorn facing the other way?

If you make this cushion, I would suggest doing the log cabin in the normal way by cutting long strips to  width, and then trimming after sewing. The pattern suggests cutting the log cabin strips to fixed lengths, but I found myself in a bit of a pickle when I got to the outer long sides because my strips were not long enough (which I think could well have been due to my inefficiency, as I was a little, shall we say, distracted at the time). It makes a lovely big 18in/45cm cushion, and we (the royal 'we') are very pleased with it.

Lecien fabrics (I think)

There are several other projects in this book on my to-do list - I have just acquired some fat quarters for the tea cosy pictured on the cover.

Moda Fig Tree & Co Strawberry Fields (and another)

I also love the pincushion idea, which I might make as a little present for myself.

And then there is the rosette cushion for Princess Bunchy - I have the rectangular cushion pad (after much searching, I have found that John Lewis is the best place for a really wide range of cushion pad sizes), and the ceremonial selection of fabrics will be undertaken shortly.

And if you know a baby, there is a wonderful pattern for a pair of the most heavenly pair of baby shoes that I have ever seen in all my born days - enough to bring on those broody feelings.

Very cute baby shoes

The only proviso I would make about this book that it is not a learn-to-sew type of book suitable for an absolute beginner - the projects are not difficult, and the instructions for appliqué and embroidery are very clear, but it does help to have a little experience - and actually this is what makes the book more interesting for me, as it goes beyond the run-of-the-mill projects that I have seen repeated in so many books.

So all in all, I think Cute and Easy Quilting and Stitching is a sewing book worth having - there are plenty of things that I will make, and there are some really lovely ideas for embellishments that could easily be used for other projects. It really is a bit different and thus I have found it quite inspiring.

And now, the sheets are calling . . .