Sew Much Better Now

Do you find that the busier things get, the harder it is to convince yourself to do some task that will save you loads of aggravation? Not this time!

With holiday gift sewing about to reach the top of my to-do list, I took a little time last week to tick something else off the list to make it easier and more comfortable. Naturally, it took longer to gather tools and materials from Bill's shop than it did to complete the project. But the project itself was pretty simple.

My goal was to get a larger tabletop around my sewing machine. I've been using the lovely oak table my dad made for my mom when she had this machine. That table was designed to fit in a closet in their house. The small work surface meant I always fought the weight of fabric spilling off the edge of the table as I sewed.

The table I remodeled was made from plywood and a pair of folding banquet table legs bought at Fleet Farm. We've had this table at least 15 years, probably more like 20. I figured if my plan was a bust, I could always screw on a new plywood top.

So I took apart Dad's table and used the hanging shelf as a template. I traced around it, drilled holes at the corners, then cut out an opening with a jigsaw. I drilled four more holes to hang the shelf from the tabletop using carriage bolts, using four blocks of woods as spacers.

The blocks should've made the shelf hang level. But with the uneven floor in my shop, I figured I had better check. No amount of fiddling with the tightening of the bolts did the trick, so I finally just shimmed two of  the legs.

One of these days, I may take a pipe cutter to those legs and cut them all down about an inch. I'm going to sew at this height for a while before I go to that much effort. Once of these days, I may also countersink the carriage bolt heads and buff and polish the plywood tabletop. For now, I've just stapled an old tablecloth over it. The cloth covering adds too much drag, but a silicon sheet counteracts that well enough. For now.

We'll see how it goes for a while. In the meantime, I have Christmas gifts to get made. How about you: Is there some small task you could do to make the rest of your holiday gift-making less stressful?

Fun Versus Functional

Where do you stand on the question of fun versus functional? I'm a big fan of fun. Big fan. But when you open a closet door and realize you haven't worn something in, what, four, five, six years? Yep -- time to turn it into something functional.

This is the remake -- a bag, modeled by my friend Stephanie.

This is what the bag was made from -- a vest, modeled by me. Long time ago.

Way back when, I wanted a vest that would be fun and floaty and make a dramatic entrance. I made this one by looping over a core of bias-cut fabric strips. That's right -- it's entirely hand-stitched. It took many hours and a full spool of Irish waxed linen. But I didn't spend a cent on the fabric: It was all upcycled from three boxes of goodies my friend Diane gave me after cleaning out her aunt's estate.

This fall, I decided to remake the piece before someone has to clean out my estate. So I cut off all the floaty bits (don't worry -- I saved them), seamed the thing together on the sewing machine, and added a braided leather strap.

I can't help but look at this vest now and wish I'd been able to wear it with the white vinyl lace-up granny boots I bought a really long time ago with a year's worth of babysitting wages. Loved them. Couldn't walk in them. If I still had them, I'd probably remake them into something else. Probably a bag.

So what would you remake if it was still in your closet? And what's there now that might be on its way to another incarnation that's both fun and functional?

Horizontal Surfaces

It's been a little crowded in my studio with two ironing boards set up. Not that I need two ironing boards. I've just been too focused on a WIP to put one back where it belongs.

Almost two weeks ago, the spot welds failed on the 30-year-old ironing board that lives in the studio.

My temporary solution was to move the board I inherited from my mother-in-law (I'm guessing it's closer to 45 years old) from the house to the studio.

The next day, Bill fixed my broken ironing board by drilling holes and bolting it back together.

While he was at it, he bolted the other end before it had a chance to break, And he replaced the rubber cap that was missing from one leg. The missing end cap hadn't been that much of a problem, since the floor in my studio has a charming quirkiness. I don't expect anything on it to be quite level or non-wobbly.

This board should be good for another 30 years now. And today I got the other board moved back to the house.

I also did some clean-up in the studio. It's been a solid but satisfying week of stitching, and this afternoon I finally finished the looped sheath on a large vessel. I've been so focused on that piece I've been ignoring the piles that accumulate as if by magic on every horizontal surface. Including an extra ironing board.

For now, things are reasonably tidy in the studio, ready for the start of a productive week.

In the house, I cleared off a couple more horizontal surfaces. If I'd left stuff where it was, though, the dust would be less obvious.

Nip Tuck Looping

My clothes only seem to shrink, but my favorite freeform looping travel mug sheath has stretched out. Go figure. Recently, I gave the looping a nip and tuck. That quick bit of stitching surgery took all the sag out of a favorite piece and made it perky again.

Looping sheath before nip/tuck

The sheath is made from the same 7-ply Irish waxed linen used in the purse I carry most of the time. In the photo above, you can see how it fit on my travel mug originally.

After several years of use, it had stretched to the point where it was riding up into the sip zone.

Like many of my looping projects, I painted this linen before stitching it. Luckily, I found the leftovers in my stash.  So the next step was to select a spot for the alteration and cut the sheath.

This isn't as scary as it sounds. Looping is such a stable textile construction that it can't unravel. People have used this technique for thousands of years partly, I think, because even if you manage to rip it, it will hold together long enough for you to make a repair.

After picking out the cut stitches, I was ready to rejoin the cut ends, taking out the slack.

It was just a matter of picking up existing stitches on both sides of the cut to draw the edges back together.

Looping sheath after nip/tuck

The alteration sacrificed a vertical design element I really liked. But that was the easiest placement, and I'm a big fan of easy. It's good to remember that, after spending a whole weekend making something else much harder than it needed to be. 

The weekend also included a little rain and enough sunshine and warmth to melt most of the snow in three of my willow beds. Starting today, I plan to channel my Edward Scissorhands and cut as fast as I can. I suspect it won't be long before buds start to shoot out.

The harvest will give me some quiet time to reflect on work I'm doing for an upcoming show and clarify my intentions. I have a feeling I need a few metaphoric nips and tucks to make everything fit together the way I want.

Brown Gets The Boot

Progress in the studio this week is inching along, but I have to reach back to the weekend for the satisfaction of something that's finished. Here's another project from the weekend afternoon I spent catching up on alterations and repairs.

As you may recall, my wardrobe is built around boots for practical reasons, not aesthetic ones. Several years ago, I started using leather dye in an attempt to make my footwear look a little less like steel-toed work boots. I love a pair I dyed red, but they don't quite work with everything in my wardrobe. (And now that the sole has cracked, the only time I'm that stylish is when I run the string trimmer.)

A pair I dyed black is also just about shot. But since I managed to find a pair of slightly dressier black boots that I can wear for teaching, I decided to try something else this time.

I mixed some black dye and red dye to get a nice oxblood color. The boot on the left is the original color. The one on the right has been dyed. The color is a bit washed out in the photos.

After dyeing the leather, I toned down the bright orange lining at the ankle with some Dye-na-flow fabric paint. After it dried I gave it a bit of heat setting with the iron. I'll also wait a couple of weeks before wearing the boots to give that paint time to cure so it doesn't come off on my socks.

Not exactly dyed-to-match lavender peep-toe pumps, to be sure, but better than they were. Then again, I could give them another coat and go a redder red...

Alterations & Repairs -- Purse Strap Edition

Last weekend, I took an afternoon off from the big project in my studio and the big project in the office and did some mending. At the end of the day, I had actually completed something -- and not just one thing but four things. I'm still icing the shoulder I strained patting myself on the back. Yes, it felt good.

At the top of the pile was the purse I've carried most of the time since 2005 or 2006 (can't recall for sure).

The purse is just large enough to hold a wallet, some business cards, a few receipts and a lip balm, which is all I really want to carry most of the time. I made this piece as a sampler of knotless and knotted looping stitches and looping intarsia. It's worked in 7-ply Irish waxed linen from Royalwood. The bag itself has held up beautifully. The weak point is how I attached the leather strap.

I used loops of closely worked buttonhole stitches attached to the rim of the bag and passing through the loops on the ends of the leather strap. The system works well enough -- except for when I get lazy and clip the carabiner on my key ring to the purse strap. It should come as no surprise when the threads in the buttonhole loop eventually fatigue and fray.

And yet, it did come as a surprise when I reached to greet my host in Fargo and found my purse dangling awkwardly, one end of the strap completely detached. Do I know how to make a good impression or what?

When I started the repair, I could see that the other side was about to fail, as well.

Both sides are fixed now. This is the fourth time I've reattached the strap. I can't imagine how many more times I'll repair it before the purse itself wears out. I'm willing to do that. I love this little purse.

But I'll be more careful about clipping my keys to the strap. For a while.