My Stitched Self (3)

I thought that dressing tiny Stitched Self was going to be plain sailing. I was wrong! I couldn't make up my mind what she should be wearing. It was the same frustrating dilemma I have most mornings in front of the wardrobe, but on a miniature scale.

I had an idea to make her a tiny patterned silk tunic top, and team it with a diminutive denim skirt, but I couldn't find the right fabric. I thought it would be cool to cut her top from a vintage silk scarf, but visits to all my local charity shops came up with nothing suitable and I didn't want to cut one of my own up. Buying new fabric to make clothes with just felt like cheating, as it occurred to me that I wouldn't actually own the same top (or anything in that fabric) in real life, so it just didn't seem appropriate. It all became rather obsessional!

But then I had a brain wave - how about I make a copy of one of my own dresses, and make the fabric for it too? So that's what I did. I photographed my trusty and much worn purple toadstool dress, worked on the shot in Photoshop, then printed the image onto a sheet of printer cotton. When the fabric was dry, I cut the pieces for the tiny dress, setting in the sleeves was very fiddly work. I finished by edging the neckline in lavender coloured ribbon and, finally, Stitched Self has some clothes!

The idea for the knitted Uggs came way before the dress as I had some bits of an old brown sweater lying on my desk from another project. I only wear my knitted Uggs indoors (I just never understood the idea of woolly footwear outdoors where it's invariably wet!) Stitched Self, however, will be heading off to London in hers very soon!

Does she look like me?

Stitched Self is not too sure...

My Stitched Self (2)

Tiny Stitched Self now has a face and hair! She is still as naked as the day she was...um...sewn, but now she looks like a real doll instead of an artists mannequin.

I was determined not to simply use wool or embroidery thread as hair, sadly my real life hair just isn't that bouncy and mane-like. And so, I cut brown satin and organza ribbons into small petal-shaped pieces and sewed them in an overlapping fashion until I had created the long bob shape my real life hair is in. A lot of my work is about texture rather than colour, so I'm pleased to have a similar technique in part of my Stitched Self - the effect created by the overlapping ribbons -plus I added some strands of embroidery floss here and there, tacked down with cotton to keep them in place.

From my last post you will see that her poor little face was very plain indeed, it put me in mind of a fencing mask. I felt it needed some subtle sculpting to give it some definition and features so I used a few little stitches, pulled tight, here and there to create something of a nose and mouth - not easy at this size! Then it was time to sew on her Coraline inspired black button eyes, the tiniest I could find at just 5mm. A few pink stitches for a mouth, and - she lives! Albeit with a vaguely amused expression. I suppose I should get her dressed now!

My Stitched Self (1)

Stitch London announced an interesting experiment in stitchery the other day. There is to be an exhibit at the Science Museum in London this summer to commemorate the re-opening of their 'Who Am I?' gallery, and all are invited to make a tiny sewn version of themselves. The collection of models will go on display from the 30th June. You can either knit or sew your Stitched Self and patterns for 'blank bodies', plus the rest of the details, are available here. Exciting Stuff!

Challenges of this kind make my head buzz, and I knew instantly I had to do something Coraline inspired. I also knew I didn't just want to do a 'flat' doll and knitting or crocheting a 3d one from the patterns was out of the question. So, I started to draw up pattern pieces for my tiny self. It was only then I realised how very tiny the Stitched Selves had to be! Approx 15cm (6 inches) tall, which really makes for the smallest doll I've ever sewn. For something of this size all the seams need to be on the outside. It was quite a task to make everything as neat as possible and I used a pale biege embroidery silk to give smoother stitches. To make things even harder, I used the cotton lining fabric from a pair of vintage 1970's curtains for my 'flesh', which I thought was very apt, but it frays like mad. However, this all adds to the weird, slightly disheveled, 'Miss Haversham' effect that is a trademark of so much of my work, and has turned out to be highly suitable for making creepy voodoo effigies!

A few evenings later and the basic body of my Stitched Self is ready - here she is! Admittedly, she came out spookily more human than I had imagined. The exciting stuff comes next: hair, features, clothes...shoes!!

Naked, featureless, tiny me.

Scenes from Dr Frankenstitches workshop.

Below, I had to use a cocktail stick to stuff the legs!

Amongst cotton reels and pins for scale.

Millicent Chop's Raspberry Vanilla Cupcakes

This is Millicent Chop.

She likes vanilla cupcakes and raspberry jam. She's been ever so careful not to get any crumbs or sticky jam dabs on her dress because very soon she is going to live with Jeremy Sock (formerly Bill, The School Sock Elephant). She is rather looking forward to this and if she had a little suitcase I imagine it would already be packed and by the door - pink tutu, angora cardigan, and very, very soft and tiny cashmere socks.

Poor Millicent waited ages for me to finish her, but quite by chance, as well as finishing Millicent today, I have made some cupcakes that combine her favourite foods. She is absolutely delighted with them as you can see.

Millicent Chop's Raspberry Vanilla Cupcakes

(Makes about 8 substantial cupcakes or 12 smaller ones)

You will need:

100g soft butter

100g caster sugar

2 beaten eggs

1 tsp vanilla essence

100g self raising flour

25g ground almonds

1 tsp baking powder

a couple of handfuls of ripe raspberries, lightly squished.

To decorate:

50g very soft butter

100g icing sugar

2 tsp milk

a tiny drop of red food colouring

8 nice fat raspberries

What to do:

1. Line a cupcake tray with 8 large cupcake cases and preheat the oven to 170 degrees.

2. Beat the sugar and the butter together until smooth and creamy. Combine the eggs and vanilla essence then add to the butter mixture a little at a time, beating well. Fold in the flour, baking powder and ground almonds, and then the squished raspberries, distributing evenly.

3. Fill the cupcake cases to two thirds full, then bake in the preheated oven for 20-25 minutes until risen, golden brown and springy to touch. Stand the cakes on a wire rack, and when cool combine the butter, icing sugar and red colouring* to make a frosting. Spread all over the cakes, and top each one with a raspberry. Delicious!

*tip: use a cocktail stick to add just the tiniest trace of colouring to make a very pale pink. Then beat, repeat, until desired tone is achieved. A little goes a very long way.

Millicent was inspired by a project in 'Sock and Glove' by Miyako Kanamori

The Circus Beetles are in town!

I've been making Circus Beetles! This is my name for these brightly-coloured little busy-bodies that appeared while I was recovering from flu. Perhaps I was delerious.

I had an idea to make some fabric insect brooches, because I love insecty jewellery so much. I did two prototypes first of all, in the scraps left from my winter bird obsession. One was deemed too three dimensional to be a brooch (it may resurface again as a Christmas tree decoration) the other was lovely but a bit...dull. Finally it was time to use some colour after months of...beige.

Pale Beetle - Positively anemic by comparison!

Last summer I bought a pair of vintage 1970's curtains simply because the colour and pattern was so amazing. They are a glorious riot of pink, red and mustard swirls. I cut some of the individual motifs from the fabric and used larger ones for bodies, smaller ones for wings. As a contrast I used a red and white spot fabric on some of the beetles, which I aged down with tea to match the vintage fabric. For the wings I layered red, pink, gold and brown ribbons on pieces of tulle, then edged them all haphazardly with chocolate embroidery silk. Each little face has it's own character, beady eyes on most and antennae on some.

Beetles in Progress

I have an idea to mount them in a shadowbox, each with a vintage scientific label and pinned through the abdomen - of course - because I love how they look all together. Once I had decided they were Circus Beetles, I also had a jolly vision of them fluttering out of the folds of a tattered big top, each time it is unpacked for a show.

Like I said, delerious.

New Year and the Bjork swan dress

I've always wanted to have at go at making this dress, and so, as soon as I got an invitation to a pop star themed New Year's party, it was clear who I should go as!

When Bjork wore her infamous swan dress at the Oscar ceremony back in 2001, the critics fell into two camps, either loving it or hating it. Either way it caused a stir and was a unique and iconic fashion statement. 

I didn't have that long to make the dress because I knew I was going to busy with Christmas, so I admit I cheated a little by buying a pre-made tutu from Ebay. I found one that had a drop waist, the ruffles starting from hips rather than the waist and therefore a little more flattering. I did make some modifications however, taking the whole thing off it's elastic waist and adding some darts to make it fit better also opening up the back seam to make it into a kind of wrap skirt which ties at the back with ribbons. 

Making the swan neck was the fun part. It was basically a shaped tube made from white jersey fabric, rounded at one end for the head, and wider at the other where it was going to be joined to the skirt. I stuffed it, then added lots of tulle ruffles, some fluffy marabou feathers on the inner neck, and made a beak from orange felt and a black fabric scrap. A couple of black buttons made beady swan eyes, and then it was ready to be sewn to the skirt. A few more tulle ruffles masked the join, and it was finished!

Caution: Swans like champagne - I'm sure that glass was full...

A story for Christmas

In the deepest part of the pine forest, where the sun barely shone and the frost rarely extended its icy fingers, strange small red and white toadstools had begun to emerge. Pearls grew on their smooth red tops. The legend was, that if a bride gathered the pearls from these toadstools and sewed them to her wedding gown, then her groom would stay forever enchanted and never see her grow old. Some of the larger toadstools had little pearl buttons, and these, if sewn to a grooms gloves, would have a similar effect on his bride.

Bronwen was to be married that winter, and gathering her velvet cape about her and picking up her basket she ventured far into the forest, the hem of her dress picking up pine needles from the forest floor as she went deeper and deeper into the wood. Eventually she came to a spot so densely wooded and dark she could barely see her boots on the forest floor. She could, however, see tiny spots of light, nestled on softly glowing mushrooms - what little light there was reflected in the brilliant pearls on the toadstools tops. She stooped and gathered the strange soft fungi until her basket was full, then, pleased to be heading out of this long forgotten place, hurried back to the cottage.

The day of the wedding came at last and Grüber buttoned his white kid gloves. The pearl buttons he had gathered from toadstools in the wood earlier that December glimmered in the faint winter light. He admired his reflection before he set off to church.

When Bronwen walked down the aisle and stood next to her groom, she lifted her veil and turned to face him. Grüber fell backwards in horror. Her skin was papery, wrinkled and grey, her hair wisps of lifeless cobweb, and her eyes faded and watery. Bronwen gasped, her once handsome groom was wizen, decrepit and toothless!

The couple had overlooked an important part of the forest fable:

'Pearls for a bride and ne'er grow old,

Buttons for grooms to stay young and bold,

But buttons and pearls on the same wedding day

And both will appear in a state of decay'.

Fortunately the Bride's mother was wiser than either of the young couple. She had also made a trip into the pine forest that winter and had gathered the soft brown toadstools that grew alongside the red ones. From these, she had gathered the twists of thread that sprouted from their tops, and had fashioned the cotton into boutonnières, the silky thread intertwined among sprigs of mistletoe and ivy. At once, she sprang from her seat in the church and pinned a boutonnière to each of the wedding couple.

To the rest of the congregation nothing appeared to happen at that moment, but to Bronwen, she saw her groom once again grow handsome, and to Grüber, his bride became even lovelier than he ever remembered.

The couple were married that day and, although, they did of course grow old, they never paid much attention to it, and lived happily ever after, never having cause to venture back to the spot where the enchanted toadstools grew.

The End.

Enchanted: Fabric toadstools in red and brown nestle in pine branches.

Inspired by a tutorial by LucyKate Crafts.

I dream of Narnia

Is the name of this wintery head adornment I made this evening. Ever since I was told the dress code ('festive headwear') for a party this Friday, I've had this creation stuck in my head. It's a little winter woodland scene - in fascinator form! The birds were purchased and are in two positions, flight and perched. They have shimmery aqua in their feathers so I used a pale green vintage damask remnant over a wire and padded frame work to make a headband, wiring in a frostily painted twig before stitching it in place. A bundle of tulle (which forms a veil), a sprig of pine, some silvery sprayed dried grasses and faded green hydrangea blossoms gave the flying bird a soft landing spot. The perched bird shares her arbour with some miniature vintage baubles and a jingly silver sleigh bell. 

...And then there were five

I have an admission to make. After I had made a few more birds, it became clear that actually I wouldn't be able to part with any at all! Each one began to develop its own character as I sewed, the details incorporating so many magpie findings that the birds started to become too personal to give away - the chandelier pieces that I rescued from a London gutter about 10 years ago, the vintage silver buttons I was given by the owner of a ribbon shop I used to visit often, snowy white goose feathers from a walk round the aboretum this autumn and odd beads that I have had in my boxes so long I can't even remember where they came from. I did, however, source some different bits and bobs for new birds, that will have far less sentimental value to me. These I will be very happy to watch fly from the nest, hopefully to establish some happy memories of their own, with new owners.

Birds of a feather...

Coco - Biscuit coloured, with shimmery wings adorned 

with french knots and seed beads, and a tinkly brass bell. 

Jezebelle  - Tattered lacy plumes and cross stiched wings.

Ophelia - Feathery lace bound plumes on cream damask, 

pearl edging and twinkly chandelier pieces

Ariadne - Silvery seed beads nestle in her white goose feather 

wings and and around her pleated  comb.

Orielle - Embroidered organza lace wings, and a curly wire headdress. 

A silver bell hangs from her belly.

Christmas birds

I am making birds. Here is the first one:

Watch this space for more, as I have a flock to sew for presents. They will all be based on the same cream damask and pewter organza - a sophisticated palette with the emphasis on texture rather than colour. I have some very pretty, tinkly little brass bells for some, and some copper leaves to decorate other ones' wings with. I know I won't be able to part with them, but hopefully if there are enough, I can keep at least one back for my own tree.

Meet Bernard

Bernard is grumpy little bat. I wonder what has upset him? After all, it is only a week till Halloween, when all the other little bats are having a whale of a time, being spooky and doing bat things. I think it might be his lack of flight that gets him down, both metaphorically and physically. His tubby little velvet body just wasn't built for swooping and whooshing, and his crinkled cotton wings have seen better days judging by the frayed little patches on them. 

Ah, I think I know what the trouble is. Here we see him perched on the bird table - he scrabbled all the way up there with his furry wool and wire feet after spotting something with his beady button eyes. But bat eyesight is not that great, as the old saying confirms, and what has he found? 

Mouldy old almonds left over from last Christmas! Now that's enough to make anyone frown. Better luck next time, Bernard!