from the cover of X-Men 03 (1991) by Jim Lee and Scott Williams
Completed with embroidery floss and watercolors on 22-count aida cloth, stretched and mounted on a wooden frame (outlined “cover” is 10.5″ x 6.75″, approximately 5% larger than the actual cover), 200+ hours to complete.
The Lacemaker Artist: Bernhard Keil (Danish, 1624–1687) Medium: Oil on canvas Dimensions: 28 ¼ x 38 ¼ in. (71.8 x 97.2 cm) Classification: Paintings Credit Line: Bequest of Edward Fowles, 1971 Accession Number: 1971.115.2 Metropolitan Museum of Art
Although I think my generation’s obsession with the handmade and the authentic in all things is a unique phenomenon, I certainly cannot take full credit for my love of all things bespoke. Because if I was to be honest with myself, this love of American folk-art and contemporary craft truly came from my mom.
And although it may seem trite to say it here, her work hooking primitive wool rugs is what makes her a true artist. Even if, in the words of my seventeen-year-old sister, “She’s just lowkey about it.”
It was my mom who introduced me to rug hooking at a young age. She often brought me with to her classes or to the store as she picked out wool and other supplies. From her, I learned how to appreciate the details of handmade work and began my fascination with American craft.Often wholly intricate, painterly, and overscale, she takes old strips of wool and weaves them into burlap fabric, usually following some design. Mostly her work is more figurative and pictoral, but after noticing my obsession with Native Chimayo weavings and Mexican folk art she has begun branching out into more geometric patterns that look vaguely southwestern.
Now, what does my mother and her rugs have to do with LA-based weaver Jay Palmer you ask? Well, nothing really, except for the fact that Jay Palmer’s work — the practice of weaving together old strips of fabric into something entirely new and beautiful — is not all that different from what my mother does with her own wool rugs.
I was lucky enough to meet Jay Palmer a few years ago during Levi’s Station to Station. He was in the Maker’s yurt, weaving old strips of indigo denim into something akin to a highly elegant rag-rug on a huge loom. I snapped this photo of his hands while he took a brief moment to rest.
It is the very human need for textiles that makes them such compelling pieces of art. Most always pieces like Jay’s indigo fabrics and my mothers woolen hooked rugs are incredibly time-intensive and crazy-laborious to create. Once finished, they are beautiful, as it’s almost as if a bit of the other person’s soul is captured in the custom piece you now hold in your hands.
I love the idea of incorporating these folk-art methods in with a piece of jeans or a trucker jacket. It imbues the piece with a sense of heritage, place, and artfulness that is wholly special and so, so unique.
I’ve experimented with my own embroidery on old trucker jackets, taking inspiration from my mom’s hooked rugs, but never have I made a wall-hanging or rug of my own. I am pleased to report that this week my mother found a frame of my own that I can begin using and that this week we will start working on our own denim rag rugs! Really looking forward to working on both with her. And excited to see if we can incorporate some fun techniques in with my favorite thing — blue jeans.
CRAFT: Denim Rag Rugs, Blue Jeans, and American Handicraft Although I think my generation’s obsession with the handmade and the authentic in all things is a unique phenomenon, I certainly cannot take full credit for my love of all things bespoke.
HEY! If you want to support communities of colour and are a sewer, cosplayer, quilter, knitter or DIY lover, then I have fantastic news! I just found an amazing master list of businesses owned by POC, women, and allies that sell sewing and crafting supplies. It’s got a full breakdown of what they carry, who runs it, where they’re based, etc.
This list is the baby of Seattle-based designer Jacinta Green. The sellers are all vetted by Jacinda or by followers she trusts. It’s already at 236 and is still growing! You can find her on instagram @pinkmimosabyjacinta.
Satin’s a weave more than a type of fabric. Like, there is silk satin, but most of what ordinary consumers buy is actually polyester or rayon satin.
Is there wool satin? Linen satin? What’s that like?
I thought satin was the non-silk version of silk and am now blown away.
And like. This information exists out there on the internet, I’m sure. But there was never going to be a day when I would have thought “hmm, lemme google what satin is” because I thought I knew.
And this is what drives me mad about everything: nowadays you can know anything, but unless you know that you don’t know, you won’t find out unless by some random happenstance you stumble upon new information. X_x You can’t google what you don’t know.
Also, there are many different types of silk satin. Like, satin is mostly a stiff and heavy cloth, but silk charmeuse, which is technically a satin-woven silk, is lightweight and drapable.
I know what satin is because during junior high I had an hour-long bus ride to school, and this was before cheap internet on phones, so I actually read my Home Economics textbooks. Therefore I learned all about different weaves and fibers—for example, a twill weave is used with cotton to make denim (or just cotton twill), or with wool to make suiting or gabardine. There are so many types of fabric! Seersucker, damask, satin, shantung… each with their own properties, strengths, and weaknesses.
Also I like to watch Youtube videos about fabric weaving methods. For example, velvet was traditionally made by weaving two bolts of fabric facing each other, woven together by a thick forest of connecting threads; when you separate them by cutting the threads, the shorn ends create the fuzzy nap that gives velvet its characteristic texture.
And jacquard looms were the first use of punch card automation I’ve ever heard of, which is an important predecessor to computers.
I feel really lucky that I’m in an area that did teach Home Ec and Fashion Design as options in public schools. Fiber arts really are one of those essential building blocks to our lives, and being able to hack them and make them do your bidding is a really useful skill.
I am not a fiber arts person, but one little detail that interests me is that so many fabrics are named for their places of origin. I know damask is from Damascus and Tweed is a valley and river in Scotland.
It’s kind of like cheese. Areas would have a particular regional speciality, and then English would use the name for everything that used that method. Most fabric is named either for its place of origin (Crêpe de Chine, Donegal tweed, Chantilly lace) or some special detail about its manufacture, appearance, or use.
Fabric less obviously named after places, an incomplete list: Calico (Kozhikode, India), cambric (Cambrai, France), cashmere (Kashmir, India), denim (“de Nîmes”, Nimes, France) gauze (Gaza, Palestine), jersey (the island in the British Channel), muslin (Mosul, Iraq), nankeen (Nanjing, China), paisley (Paisley, Scotland), suede (Sweden), shantung (Shandong, China)
ok so i’ve seen some of you aren’t that sure that this is actually embroidery (i was suspicious too bc damn!!!!) so here you is another embroidery of his with some close ups♥ :
Desperately need to make space so first up: selling this ‘rare’ smaller study from late last year. A braid neatly tied then chopped into the sink, maybe for your own bathroom?
My website/store is here and if you’re reading this, ily, use code BRAIDTUMBLR for a petite discount.
