Raven and Sparrow

One more for Lisa

When I start a seasonal series the first thing I do is take the plate I am working with to my local fabric store to see what colors complement it and jump start my ideas. I usually find one or two patterns that I want to work with, since making all the tablecloths by hand is just too daunting time-wise. In Lisa's case I found this canvas stripe that looks good with her dishes, and suggests summer to me, but I wanted to make summer myself so I could incorporate dragonflies into the design. I bought the canvas anyway and used it to make a bonus setting in the series, layering it over the same gray under cloth that I used for winter. The clean simplicity of the stripes is a fun change from the dense patterning of the other settings, but needs a jolt of color to spark it. Red geraniums offer the required brightness, while retaining the unstudied simplicity of the cloth. I put the flowers in white planters to echo the white centers of the plates and add to the clean, breezy feeling.

This cloth could work for any season by changing the color of the napkins and the centerpiece. Again, clicking on the pictures makes them look better.

Lisa's autumn

Lisa's autumn table begins with a pale golden square topped with the runner I made with my water-stained linen/silk fabric. Click on the photo to see the details. Actually, clicking on all the pictures makes them look better, so if you have time, I'd suggest that.

I have a pot that is the perfect gray for the centerpiece, but I had some difficulty finding appropriately colored flowers to go in it. I finally secured some roses called "cafe au lait" and combined them with alstroemeria, wheat ears and St. John's wort berries for the best approximation of autumn I could make in springtime. In true autumn appropriately colored dahlias and chrysanthemums should be easy to find. My pink glassware was just the warm tint to accent the reddish color on the runner. Brick red candles in gold holders and madder-dyed buttons relate to the darker red in the center motif.

After all the effort it took to dye the napkins and find the right flowers I was worried that this table wouldn't come together convincingly, but now I think it telegraphs "autumn" pretty clearly.

 

Lisa's summer

Lisa's summer table is built on the dragonfly/foxglove cloth I made over a very long period of time (documented here on the blog). After so many hours working and imagining how this cloth would work, I finally got to see it's effectiveness in action.

The high patterning of the cloth prompted me to keep the other elements on the table as simple as possible. I chose clear glass and plain, rounded shapes for for the vase and glassware, and kept the candles small and low. (The little tealights scattered about reminded me of fireflies, although we don't have those magical summer insects here.) Plain napkins tied with lavender ribbon echo the colors in the foxgloves and the purple edge.

 

The cloth works a little better up close because the details of the flowers don't read as well when you stand back. The dishes and flatware break up the '"picture" so it is harder to read from a distance. I think a table should look good from the doorway to entice you to sit down, and then be equally enjoyable as you take your individual place. I'm not actually unhappy with this table as I stand back, but I do see the difference. Another thing that I notice is the difference between the table in real life, and in the photographs I took. Melding two layers of fabric can be tricky. There is a whole lot of stitching around all of the motifs, but the areas that are not as heavily stitched are hard to keep from wrinkling. When I set the table it didn't bother me, but what looked textural and hand-made in person just looks wrinkly in the pictures. 

This square cloth is large enough to use without an under cloth which makes the table simpler than some of the other seasons. The checkerboard edge is important to bring a sense of summery lightness to the rather dark central section. Does it look like summer to you? 
 

Lisa's spring

 

If Lisa's winter table was underdone, the one for spring is the opposite. Soon after she agreed to participate in my project, we wandered together through the fun shops of a nearby town and came upon a woven scarf that we both really liked. It had various graphic patterns in dark grays and blues, shot with unexpected bands of bright color. We both thought of spring and bought it as the foundation piece for her spring table. Like the winter table, this runner speaks to spring as we experience it here in the Pacific Northwest. Spring comes early, but in fits and starts, with much variation in temperature and atmospherics. The clouds can be low and oppressive one minute and then break suddenly, allowing shafts of sunlight to pierce the dark and illuminate patches of new growth or flowering trees. (The view from Lisa's porch on the day I was there to photograph the tables was a perfect example.)  The bright color spectrums woven into the scarf also reminded us of the many colors of primroses that decorate the nurseries here in early spring...usually the first flowers available as winter comes to an end. 

I thought layering the scarf over an under cloth of spring green would evoke our springtime nicely, but the bright colors in the cloth just didn't read strongly enough, even up close. I tried to punch them up by adding embroidery, but it still was too subtle. I needed more bright colors on a dark background, so I dug up some navy blue linen and made a small square embroidered with strong springy (I hoped) motifs. Then I made napkin rings with the same colors and designs. It felt like I was pushing and pushing.....more, more, more.

When the table came together I could feel the effort behind it, which undermines the design I think. I continued the multi-colored theme with the glassware (thank you Amazon) and tulips. No candles or holders that I could find added anything to the table, so I left them off. 

The large quilted square I used under everything else worked really well. I like the texture and it is much easier to iron and handle than a plain cloth made of the same linen in a single layer, so that experiment was a success. The strong graphics of the scarf and the bright colors escape springtime pastel cliche, but cliches are also a way to communicate, and I cannot tell of this table communicates or confuses. Nonetheless....spring.

Lisa's winter

After an interminable time....years, in fact.....I have finished my seasonal series for my sister Lisa and photographed the results in her dining room. I started with her Kate Spade dishes with the dragonfly motif, which I like very much. I designed a table setting for each season, including the tablecloths, napkins and accessories. Some of the settings started with purchased yardage, and others involved the hand-dyed and embroidered cloths I made myself and have documented in fits and starts here on the blog. 

The first setting I'll show now is Winter. I made an under cloth of gray undyed natural linen to fit Lisa's table. On top of that I laid a square made of purchased upholstery cloth (washable, of course) in a brown leafy pattern with random black marks. It reminds me of the forest floor here in winter, long after the leaves have fallen and lost their colors, but still are ankle deep on the trails. It takes all winter for them to break down and we often don't have snow to cover them up or speed up the process. The lack of color speaks of winter too...our climate is gray and the days are very short, so the dimness is more appropriate for us here in the Pacific Northwest than jolly snowmen or other usual winter motifs.

On this I set the dishes, with black napkins and taupe tumblers. For a centerpiece I used a black vase filled with thin brown branches and a wiry garland of gold stars, placed on top of a tatted doily. Gold candlesticks and gold cord on the napkins added a little more glitter to a very low key table.

 

 

I miscalculated on the proportions of the doily because I set this (and all the tables) up first on my own table which is seven inches narrower than Lisa's table. There is a little too much empty space around the very minimal centerpiece. I must admit I really like the way the lace doily shows up against the background without being too showy. It just should have been twice as large. The whole process reminded me how rusty I am with the photography and how tiring it is to set and re-set the table, but it is done and I will show you the rest of the settings in upcoming posts. 

 

 

Reviewing failures

I have been accused of laziness all my life, first by my mother who had an insatiable need for help in dealing with six other small children, and then later by myself as I internalized high energy and accomplishment as goals of a worthy life. Unfortunately my energy levels have always been low to middling and my health issues lately have made the wide gap between intention and actual accomplishment very clear. Trying to keep up with the never-ending list of "shoulds" feels exhausting and, in the end, not possible. I feel like I have been running on a treadmill designed for some other more sparkling person which dooms me always to fall behind. Having had enough therapy to realize the futility of this makes me burrow more deeply into what I find important and consider anew the pursuits that have given me purpose and joy. That always leads back to textiles and tablecloths and the power of gathering, which still moves me deeply. Even in the midst of my greatest lethargy I want to make special places that embrace and enhance the connection between people. I still want to set the table even though the effort seems ever more Herculean.

Just lately a design for a winter tablecloth that I made several years ago but failed to bring to a finish, has been floating into my head. I was trying to come up with four square cloths that telegraphed the seasons in the most simple and essential geometric ways possible. Stripes for summer, polka dots for spring, squares for autumn and triangles for winter, done in appropriate colors to lay the base for any table set in that season. I started with winter because I thought it would be the most satisfying. Laying out the pattern on cotton was hard because keeping straight lines means drawing the pattern strictly on cloth that resists keeping straight, and then taping off every frigging triangle to keep the wayward wax contained in something like a regular pattern.

I went to my usual lengthy effort, waxed the pattern over many hours and several days and then dyed it. It turned out awful....a sort of beigey-blah that can result with natural dyes if you are not careful.

The wax broke so much that I didn't feel like I could just dye again without compromising the pattern. The prospect of re-waxing and re-dying was just too much and I gave up. I stashed it in my failures box and there it has languished, but now it is knocking on the fringes of my brain. Do I have enough oomph to go back and try again? Is the pattern worth the effort? I probably will never make a conscious decision, I will just go down and get it out or I won't. We'll see how insistently it continues knocking.

More Ruth

The stranger who appeared in my driveway in search of Ruth Penington's old house pulled me back to my own first impressions of the house, and to the research I undertook at the time to find out more about it. Some of the comments (thank you, as always!!) made me realize that there was now more available on-line than there had been twenty years ago. Ruth even has an entry on Wikipedia, which certainly wasn't there when I was first looking. Or maybe I am just a crappy researcher. Anyway, I found some pictures of her and her work which I hope you will find interesting.

The stones in this belt came from our beach.

The house that Ruth built

Although our long and obscure driveway keeps casual passers-by away from our door, I wasn't entirely surprised a couple of days ago to find an unknown woman standing on our patio peering down at the old house. It has happened several times in the years that we have lived here because people who are familiar with this place are drawn back by their memories. The woman who built it, Ruth Penington, was an art professor at the University of Washington. She bought the property in 1940 and used it as a summer get-away until she died in the 1990's. Lots of students and family members were invited here and she occasionally rented it to sailors stationed at the nearby navy base. This most recent visitor told me her husband had helped build the "new" wing in the 1970's and had brought her down then to show her the beautiful place he was working on. She also was a student of Ruth's at UW, and of Ramona Solberg, who was a Ruth protege. I never knew Ruth and the number of people who did is becoming fewer and fewer, so I was delighted to meet her. Her presence reminded me of the first time I was here and the powerful pull the house and the setting had for me.

It was a cold day in February when we learned there was a house for sale in this vicinity. It had been empty for about three years and was about to be torn down and replaced by something much more grand, but the owner, who had purchased the property from Ruth's nephew, changed his mind and put it back on the market. The doors were standing open, the roof was clearly not doing its job, and the whole place had an air of abandonment and neglect. It was hard to tell how old it was because the design was so contemporary, but there were tell-tale signs (like the light switches) that said it was much older than it looked (the original cabin was built in 1942). Even in its sad condition, it was charming. The windows, and there were so many! looked out towards the fabulous view of water and mountain, and let in lots of light even in the dead of winter. The rooms were pleasantly proportioned and rambled up and down over the topography of the hillside. One interior staircase was built into the rock of the island and ivy grew up the wall indoors. I loved it and I could tell that whoever had built it had a highly attuned aesthetic sense and had loved it too. Her hand was so strongly evident that I became quite curious about her and began to research her life.

If you are interested in metal-working and jewelry you have probably heard of Ruth Penington because she was very active and influential in those fields in the fifties and sixties. She was the head of the UW art department and a founding member of Northwest Designer Craftsmen, a large organization of local artists. Ramona Solberg was probably more famous as a jeweler, but she was taught by Ruth and was her friend. I called Ramona, who was then still alive, and another friend who was important in local art circles, Lamar Harrington, and asked them about Ruth and they each kindly spoke to me for quite a while. They both said that the other was really closest to Ruth, from which I gleaned that Ruth was not deeply intimate with anyone. I heard from more than one person (not Ramona or Lamar) that she was terrifying and my most recent visitor echoed that, saying that as a teacher Ruth was very scary. Philip McCracken, the noted sculptor, said she failed him in the one class he took from her. There were some articles in the Seattle Times about her, including one with a photo of her working in the studio of our house (the windows are unmistakable.) The UW still keeps pictures of some of her work, which was also contemporary in style, and incorporated objects she found around her. One necklace features stones from our local beach. She was a serious and lifelong artist who clearly drew inspiration from the setting we are lucky enough to share. She came here as often as she could for decades, but one day went into a local store and said she couldn't find her house and needed help to show her the way. After that she didn't come anymore, but her house still shouts her name. The place she made was a magnet for many people, and they still think about it and occasionally wander by.

 

Nailing down the edges

Lisa's summer tablecloth is moving towards its finish and I have been embroidering as much as I can to get it done. After I did the dragonflies I felt like there was too much of a difference between the heavily worked insects and the slap dashy painted leaves. The foxglove flowers were painted too but seemed too delicate to encase in thread. I did a few experiments and finally settled on stem stitching around the stems and leaves with a thread that matched the background, switching to almost invisible running stitch in the same color around the flowers. The heavier stem stitching helped to integrate the leaves into the rest of the cloth while the flowers were more subtly defined, without creating a clear line around them. The dragonflies and the little white dots are surrounded by three rounds of running stitch, which implies (I hope) the movement of air around them. All that is done now, so I am going around the main body of the cloth stitching in the ditch to nail down the edges before I put a lavender binding around the whole thing and call it done. I'm not sure how I'm going to photograph it in its entirety since my studio has been given over to other uses and my hanging wall is to longer available.

It is sort of exciting to see the end of the tunnel on this project. (I called Lisa to remind her that her tables are coming, and she had understandably forgotten that they were even in the works.)  

Foxglove in indigo

I use Typepad as a platform for my blog and have been experiencing the same problems I have seen on other Typepad blogs lately....no way for people to comment. I hate computer stuff and actively avoid fiddling with the nuts and bolts of this activity, but I cherish the comments I receive and am worried that people are shut out. The only fix I have found is to change browsers. I have been using Chrome for quite a while, but can't get through to any Typepad bloggers without switching to Microsoft Edge, so that is what I recommend in the short term. I will be watching to see what happens to other people and may be changing my blog platform. For now, my email address is: [email protected] so you can let me know if you are having trouble reading or commenting on my blog. Thanks! I really appreciate your presence here.

 

 

I finally got set up to dip my foxglove tablecloth in indigo. I thought it would be pretty quick to do the dipping, but the size of the cloth meant I had to get out my big kettle, scrub the earwigs out of it, revive the outside propane stove and gather all the indigo accoutrements. It took a while to get those ducks in a row, but at last I was ready. You may remember that my favorite test cloth only took about forty seconds in the indigo to get a color I liked and hoped to replicate. Ha ha. Changing volumes of liquid always throws those calculations out the window. The actual tablecloth also started out a darker gold than the test cloth because the myrobalan formula I painted it with also changed with the larger volume needed. Anyway, there I was dipping my big cloth briefly and absolutely hating the color. Pea green! No! More blue. I stood there all afternoon, dipping and waiting and dipping and waiting, trying to get the green to go more blue. (You have to wait about twenty minutes between dips to allow the indigo to fasten itself to the cloth.) At last I got it blue enough, but then it was much darker than I had first envisioned. Oh well. The best laid plans and all that.....

After a couple days of curing I took out the wax....another trying chore.....and now feel okay with how it turned out. The many indigo dips corroded the wax enough to result in a batik-y effect even on the painted leaves and the fabric paint integrated much better with the dye than it might have done. I went back in lightly with white paint to emphasize the lips of the flowers since the indigo muted them too much, but mostly this is what I got. The next thing is to embroider the dragonflies. I am thinking of adding a checkered border to keep it light and summery.