Well.
Someone got a little compulsive in the studio yesterday. Okay, make that more compulsive than usual.
I set out to make a simple, little fabric envelope--something one might use to present a gift card, say, or perhaps some crisp folding money. I sewed several of these as Christmas gifts, in various fabrics. (See sample in photos, below).
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| fabric envelope (open) photo by Nita Lou Bryant |
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| fabric envelope (closed) photo by Nita Lou Bryant |
What was different this time was that I wanted to incorporate a photo transfer made from an old postcard.
I have a box full of postcards: some I inherited from my mom, the rest I scavenged at great personal risk at Brock's Books in San Antonio, Texas, when I was in college. *(See bonus bookstore anecdote, below.) The postcard in question is, in my opinion, extremely cool and spooky. Because this was only the second fabric transfer I've ever done in my life, though, it turned out a bit, um, lumpy.
No problem, I thought, I'll just flatten it out by sewing around it. However, this only served to create more ripples in the fabric. Which led to more sewing in an attempt to camouflage those. But you know what? The more I sewed around and around the fabric transfer, the more I began to like the general effect of it. I started getting excited.
Straps! Why, I could attach shoulder straps to this little bag, I thought. Grabbing some green bias tape from my basket of notions I sewed that for a while to make straps, adding a row of bias tape around the top of the bag as an accent. I ended up changing my mind about the straps and ripping them off but kept the trim. Obviously what this bag needed instead of straps, I realized, was a magnetic closure.
Had I ever before attached a magnetic snap to a bag? No, and frankly the illustration on the package provided this amateur seamstress no clue whatsoever about how they were supposed to be affixed to the fabric. I bent and re-bent the prongs on the metal snap pieces so many times I completely wore out two of them. And there were tears in the fabric where the prongs had been poked in. No matter: I boldly pinned more bias tape in place to cover up the holes, accidentally piercing my little finger in the process.Yeow! (This is is an approximation of the word loudly uttered at this point in the studio.) By now I was obsessed with wrestling those blankety-blank metal snaps to the ground, so I blotted the blood from my wound and soldiered on. The next thing I knew--and who didn't see this coming?--whump! I broke the sewing machine needle. Which pretty much forced me to pause in my creative frenzy long enough to take a good, long look at my sewing project.
What had begun as a simple little fabric envelope now resembled a three-dimensional mixed media textile art installation.
Looking at my watch, I realized that my studio time allotment had ended thirty minutes ago. With reluctance (along with a throbbing little finger), I switched off my sewing machine. Before leaving, I took a few photos of my work in progress (see below).
Studying these photos, I'll have to confess that I'm really not sure, any longer, exactly what I am making. All I know is I can't wait to get back to doing some more 3-D sewing!
Note to self: remember to take box of band-aids to studio.
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| Bias Tape & Lethal Pins photo by Nita Lou Bryant |
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| Vexing Snaps photo by Nita Lou Bryant |
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| Spooky Cool Postcard Fabric Transfer & Rows of Sewing photo by Nita Lou Bryant |
*Bonus bookstore anecdote
Brock's was legendary.
Texas Monthly dubbed the owner, Norman Brock, "the most disorganized and frustrating bookseller in Texas" in a 1975 article but the crowd I ran with at Trinity University loved to go there. I was personally responsible for closing off an entire aisle in the store one day when I extracted from a tall stack the one volume that was apparently key to that passageway remaining open. I had to skedaddle to avoid being walled up at Brock's forever. Which, come to think of it, might not have been such a bad fate.