I have been waiting to share this piece until it was close to finished, figuring it might be more interesting to see its progression all at once, rather than bit by bit. This has required getting in the habit of taking a photo at the end of each work session but, in addition to not paying close attention to the quality of light for these shots, there were of course days when I forgot to take the picture. Apologies. Still, I think the following images will give you a general idea of how this piece has evolved.
As you may remember from this post, my goal is that the sketches I’ve been doing lately provide a jumping-off point for new work, rather than remaining an end-vision. But what is the point if the resulting work is just a direct translation of the drawing? My objective is to push the unique qualities of textiles and thread in such a way that they convey their own unique voice, leaving the viewer with a sense that they understand how continuing the idea in another medium propels the initial concept just that much further. Well, at least that’s my goal.
I began breaking up the image space by outlining areas with a washable marker. Afterward, I basted along those lines to give myself a permanent record, knowing the marker’s ink would disappear once moistened with a layer of paint.
Working on fabric is different from working on paper in that pigment will bleed into adjacent areas despite taking care not to cross any lines. But I discovered that painter’s tape can work just as well as it does on a wall to keep the textile paint from seeping into zones where I didn’t want it to go.
Once the background paint was set and the embroidery begun, I started to wonder if I could further break up the space by adding a layer of dyed silk organza over part of the piece. I like the general concept, but found that in this particular instance it faded the color behind it too much and somehow worked at cross-purposes against what I was trying to accomplish. I will have to figure out a way to investigate that idea in the future.
Areas of color were laid in with stitching to describe the pears, but my attempt to define their form simply through a change in stitch direction wasn’t as successful as I had wished. I began to layer stitches over stitches which, similar to crosshatching with pen and ink, created a more modeled effect.
What resulted was the happy discovery that the under-stitches, paired with different colored stitches on top, lend a depth of tone much the way an underpainting will affect the layers of paint above it.
The definition of the stems and the shadows beneath the pears begin to pull the image together. Meanwhile, I can also begin to see how the interaction between varying types of stitching starts to hit the sweet spot of finding a way to push textural effects beyond what I can achieve with a pen.
Working back and forth while trying to obscure the lines between image and framing, foreground and background, is where the color and pattern of the stitched marks begin to show the strength of their voice.
Ultimately, I had the nagging feeling that the vertical marks defining the surface the pears are sitting upon (see above), were too distracting — both visually and texturally. My critique group agreed.
I am much happier now that those stitches have been removed.
I am going to let this piece sit for a bit, just to see how it settles with me. It very well may be finished – or there may be a few minor tweaks left to make. Either way, I am definitely getting ready to move on with some good lessons under my belt.
These pears are lovely, and the layers of colored stitching are what makes this so wonderful, in my opinion. What is the fabric you started with?
Thanks Janet — the base layer is raw silk. It’s very strong and resilient, while adding a nice texture from the start.
I love this piece. There is an amazing still life of pears by Cezanne at the Princeton University Art Museum at the moment. The way you add stitches by layers reminds me of the way Cezanne adds transparent colors in layers. Take a look of the web site of the museum and you will see the watercolors in the show.
That this piece even brought Cezanne to mind is a huge compliment Judy! Thank you.
Are you a docent for this show at the Princeton Museum? Here is a link for anyone who may be interested: http://artmuseum.princeton.edu/cezanne-modern/browse. As a student I made many watercolor copies of a couple of Cezanne’s Mont Sainte-Victoire paintings, hoping against hope to crack even just the tiniest bit of the code of his genius.
I love how the removed stitches enhance the overall picture so much.. It’s cool to have that demonstrated in photo series.. It takes a lot of courage to remove stitches (from one who frequently rips out whole knitted garments to begin again!) That instinct you have is what makes the artist.. 🙂
If you only knew how many knitted stitches I have ripped out over the years! It’s been good training I guess.
That is one of the great advantages of working with these stitched pieces — there is very little that can’t be undone and reworked.
And, I think it’s important to let people in on the fact that there are a lot of steps forward, and then steps back – dispelling any misconceptions that one goes from start to finish in a smooth progression.
Betsy, The removal of the stitches from the “table” surface beyond the pears was indeed the right thing to do. Now, that space, and the space below the pears (i.e., in the foreground) are married. It makes the overall piece more cohesive. Kudos! And as someone else remarked, it was really helpful and fun to see the progression from start to “current” finish.
Absolutely right Marya — everything snapped together once those marks were gone. I’m ever grateful for our monthly Friday group and the ability to run ideas by other eyes.