Monday, 3 July 2017

Bead Embroidery; It's sparkly, I want it.

So last year, I was working with the Halifax Summer Opera Festival and one of the baroque operas was set in modern day. The theme was very opulent: Dolce and Gabbana Haute Couture. No mean feat. A friend of mine was in charge of that opera, and gosh was she perfect for it. Her and the artistic director worked together and brought to life this absolutely breathtaking masterpiece of an opera on a budget that shouldn't have allowed for such splendor. Okay, maybe I'm laying the butter a bit thickly here, but I was seriously impressed.


One day, while hanging out in the dressing room, I spied with my little eye some jewellery that was laying on the counter. With a few quick steps, I was over, ogling the dainty pieces that the artistic director had painstakingly bead embroidered.


LOOK AT THIS!!! It is incredibly beautiful. I sneakily took a few pictures... Thinking to myself I would attempt to re-create one of those mini masterpieces at a later time. And ha! For once, an hypothetical project did come to fruition. And it only took almost a year. *Pat myself on the back.*

I must have started at some point in April, maybe, not too sure. But we're now at the beginning of July, and I juuuuuust finished a pair of earrings. Granted, working on these wasn't a full-time job sort of schedule, it was more of a few intense evenings, a couple of weeks off, an afternoon here, another evening there. You get the picture.

Anyhow, it was quite the learning curve, as I never thought I had any talent at embroidery, let alone bead embroidery. There are plenty of good blogs and videos out there to take the absolute beginner from zero knowledge to being confident enough to make some jewellery that holds together and looks good. Thank you internet.


No pictures of the actual process were taken... I wonder what my camera was up to. Must have wandered into a snow bank or something... But eh, it came back just in time to see the final steps of the process. On the above photo, we see the backing - which is real yellow suede, possibly dear hide? - in the middle is a crucial albeit invisible part of the finished pieces - thin plastic cut from a raspberry container, to support the piece so that it can stand on its own - and finally, the embroidered crosses on a thick felt.


Once the pieces were cut out, because of a critical lack of experience, I had to re-bead a couple of spots around the edges. It's curiously easy to snip off the threads...


With the layers sandwiched together and whip stitched around the edges, it's time to do a brick border, where the beads are lying perpendicular to the edges, covering the joint. Surprisingly tedious. I think I did one half of the first earring, put the entire thing down and didn't go back to it for three weeks.


Zeal took over near the end, when it was decided that dangling bits would enhance the crosses. And while I was at it, might as well add the hook to the random crystal I'd been carrying around in my purse for a few weeks.


The finished earrings are sparkly! And obviously mismatched... I thought I would play around with different ideas. Plus, it might have taken another entire year to complete if I had decided to do both earrings the same. There is practically no fun in doing something exactly the same twice. Hehehe, I know, I know, such a rebel.

It might be a good idea not to wear them with a lot of other earrings though. They aren't exactly what one might call "small and dainty". More like "large and obnoxiously in your face". Perfect!


They didn't seem that heavy, and out of curiosity I thought I would weigh them, along with some other earrings in my possession. I was actually surprised that they are more heavy than the brass mandalas. Maybe I was fooled because they are bigger, softer, and just a bit flexible. They aren't uncomfortably heavy, but I probably won't wear them for 16 hours at a time. Should be easy enough.


Monday, 23 January 2017

Icelandic Fixation

What do you do when you've discovered your new favourite yarn? Mostly soft, a little scratchy, REALLY warm, deliciously airy. Well, sounds like you're describing icelandic yarn.

As I inch my time through life towards becoming an old lady, I thought why not speed up the process a little. Being a little old lady at heart in my early 20s is cool, right? Right.

Anyhow, winter serving as an excuse - ahem, WinterLikeOnlyNorthernCanadaKnowsHowToMake (and possibly Siberia, but that's far) - I decided to undertake a rather large knitting project. Large by my standards. It's not yet another giant scarf, those are actually quite easy, they're simply time exhaustive. It is a lovely sweater. After knitting a rather funny elfish hat with bells and using the leftovers for hand-warmers, I wanted an excuse to use the lettlopi yarn again. It's such a breeze to knit with; it has a wonderful, fuzzy texture, it's light and airy, and it's 100% pure icelandic sheep wool. And the Gods only know how much I love working with completely natural fibres. Acrylic can't compete with this stuff. From personal experience, pure synthetic fibres can't hold a candle to the natural ones. Even though technically acrylic is slightly warmer than wool (exact citation in a textile textbook somewhere in a box, packed away), it doesn't breathe as well, it's not as comfortable, and it doesn't retain as nice an appearance once a garment is knitted.

The pattern I used is found here: www.ravelry.com veurfringurinn/weatherman
Available in both English and Icelandic, nominal cost of $6 US dollars. It's a simple pattern, excellent for a first time sweater project.

It seems typical for icelandic sweaters to be done in this sequence: knit the body from the hem up, knit the sleeves from the cuffs, join the body and sleeves in the round, work the pattern and the decreases in the yoke, knit the collar. And bam: wearable coziness. Don't skip over the blocking step. It's important if you want the sweater to fall properly. Plus, it smells like lanolin (wet sheep) while you steam it and it's great. Yes, trust me.

When you think about it, hand knitting is definitely not the right craft if you want to make a buck or two. It took about two and a half months of work - evenings and weekend-free time - to complete this piece. Cost for the balls of yarn came to about $65-70 CAD. So now you know, if someone ever gifts you a handmade sweater, it's worth gold. Seriously. There are no other pieces like it, and so much time and effort went into it, you better treasure it until the end of eternity.

As per usual, my efforts to document this project have been concentrated at the end of the process, hence there are only pictures of an almost completed, and completed sweater.

Colour work

Kitty helps

Done knittng

Blocking

Tah-Dah