Shears for hair

My obsession with shears is ongoing.

For a while there, I was without a printer. Since the printer is a vital tool in my pattern-making process, this seemed like it might slow me down quite a bit. Instead, I turned to the images I've been working with so intently for a while now. I began stitching this one pair of little shears over and over again, packing them tightly on the cloth in alternating rows. As my collection grew, I wondered what to do with them. They weren't artfully arranged as a solid piece, but as individual pieces, and needed to come apart- but how, and afterward, for what?

I pinned them to the wall, imagining changing concentric circles and patterns as the collection grew. I stitched one to a pin and wore it as a brooch. For a friend fond of hair accessories, I attached one to a bobby pin, as seen above. What I'm finding in these potential uses is a great sense of satisfaction. Finding an actual function for these little pieces, beyond fixed, decorative, wall adornment, being able to place the bits on my body and wear them unobtrusively, seeing that they are not limited the way a much larger piece may be, is great. I plan to explore this further.

Press, prints and patterns

Some brief updates:

The show I worked on a few weeks ago has been getting some press at FresnoBeehive.com, and the set has gotten some mention. Quotes:

"There are many aspects of this version of "All in the Timing" that are effective, from Jeff White and Chris Campbell's inspired set design (distinguished by Katharine Lawrie's artwork) to the sight of the very amusing Red blundering around stage with a mountain climber's axe buried in his skull."

"Tell us about the set. I understand it's pretty wild."
"The set, designed by Jeff White, built by the cast and crew and painted by Los Angeles artist Katharine Lawrie, has four separate playing spaces to allow quick shifts between the plays and help provide a variety of looks. The set theme is a fanciful play on the title and all the vertical surfaces are covered with 344 unique 'clocks.'"

I must say, it's kinda fun to see myself referred to in print as a "Los Angeles artist."

In other news! I selected some prints with which to piece a border for my doodle embroidery:


Reds and whites with interesting shapes and linework, to echo and compliment the doodlework.

While looking for those prints, I stumbled upon a Veterans Day pattern sale where I snagged 100$ worth of patterns for a mere 6$. I rarely buy patterns, figuring that I know how to drape and draft and can make them myself- but at only a buck a piece, I couldn't pass up the time saver. I chose all patterns that I thought could not only give me an interesting garment or two on their own, but could then be altered in many ways, limited only by my imagination. I think I might play with the skirt first.


Something I find both fun and amusing about those Project Runway patterns: in each one is a "Croquis Kit." The Kit is a piece of paper intended to help one branch out from the basic pattern. It illustrates the pattern elements (bodice, skirt, sleeves, yoke, details, etc) one by one with all their offered variables, and encourages the stitcher to mix and match them in the manner of Fashion Plates to create their own, more unique design. Paired with the illustrations are quite a few example designs and instructive paragraphs with titles such as "A Word About Inspiration," "Workroom Tips," and "Design Tips." All of this makes me laugh at first, because after having done this sort of thing on my own for so many years, it seems so obvious- but then, I suppose, it's really actually pretty cool. How often do you buy a pattern that, instead of encouraging you to buy another pattern, encourages you to get creative and experiment with just one to create as many different garments as you can? Project Runway, I approve.

Unfinished Clockwork

Thanks to the glories of the internet, I have stumbled upon some progress shots of the clock set! The photographer's focus was the actors and not what stood behind them, but there is still some set documentation to be found. When this photo was taken, the clocks were at a midpoint - faces painted, but without the details of borders, hands, numbers and other symbols that were to come.


The actual clock-face painting process was an unexpected breeze. As I mixed the four yellow tones, a helper showed up with friends in tow! Friends! In tow! There was a person to go with each can of paint, and I was thrilled by how quickly we managed to get every single circle covered in a new tone. After only 6-7 hours, we had completed this step for the entire set, a pace that blew my dreams away.

Now then. In this particular scene, the lighting was designed to be a more cheerful yellow than at any other point, so the colors are a bit warmer than they really were, but look- behind the actors- you can see the variety of clock sizes, the 4 yellow tones, the greenish background. Now imagine about 13 times as many clocks as you can see here (a conservative estimate) and you'll perhaps begin to imagine what was happening on my drop cloth.

Unfortunately, I had to leave town before getting any shots of the finished set, but I'm hopeful that some will surface before the show's 5-week run is through. I may have to send a friend on a photo-expedition.

Thanks to A.R.T. in Fresno for the image.

Circles upon circles

The first step of painting the set I recently worked on was finding and buying the pieces to paint. We dragged flats (thin faux-walls) out of storage and purchased sheets of luaun (a thin, pressed wood material) from the hardware store. Then came the actual painting part. We (myself and a friendly young man) painted everything black, to make sure that the final paints would have the same effect on both the new and used materials. Next came a very thin layer of watery gold ("Gold Shag," to be accurate) paint to soften the eventual contrast between the yellows that would come and their background.


See these? Except for ohh, one of the visible pieces seen here, all of these would end up covered in clocks. The pieces leaning on the railing at front, the pieces laying on the lawn, the pieces stacked against the stairs in the back of the photo. Not pictured: the pieces leaning against the wall to the right.

Once everything was not-black, I could begin the actual drawing process. I cut lengths of cord to mark the radius of circles 8", 12", 16", 20", 25", 30", and 35" in diameter and twirled those around pins as makeshift compasses to draw the hundreds of circles that took over my next three days.


This is the center-most piece, which sat above a projection screen at the center of the stage. It's a little difficult to see, but there they are- thin pencil marks outlining the many many circles that would eventually become clocks. This center piece featured the lone 35" clock, the "clock tower" focal point in an overwhelming sea of clock.

It was a bit frustrating as the pieces went under stage lights on the last drawing day. The tech crew and actors needed to work with the set up, so before rehearsal the pieces were screwed into place for a few hours before coming down again. The moment the lights hit them all the pencil marks seemed to disappear, taking every hour of my work with them, along with the justification for my sore fingertips, achey back and bruised knees, until the set was dismantled again. After that, the next day's painting was a relief- but that's when my camera batteries died! Further pictures thus far elude me, but I'll keep looking.

Clockeriffic

This past week, despite my having a project I am rather excited about, I have stepped away from my work. I'm instead working on a theatrical set for some friends with a local theater company. Their set was conceptually designed, but due to some complications in scheduling, they suddenly found themselves without anyone confidently artistic to oversee and execute the physical, actual design of it, so I traveled up to help.

The show is a set of short one acts brought together by a common theme of time. Thus, the set shares the theme, and is dominated by endless clocks. About 324 square feet of clocks, actually. Perhaps a little more. These clocks are to decorate the back walls across the stage and the front of the two platforms much action takes place on. They are meant to be metallic-ish, gear-like suggestions of clocks more than actual clocks- no one in the audience should be able to look past the actors and go "hm, it's 3:25 and 7:42 and 12:16!"

What all this means is that my head is chock full of circles these days. When I close my eyes I see this:
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It took one day to paint all of the set materials black as a beginning. The next day and a half or so was spent coating them with a very thin layer of watered down gold paint to soften the black background into one that eventually appeared greenish. It took about three days to draw all of the circles, which range in size from 8" in diameter to 35", with about 6 variations in between. Today I mixed four shades of golden yellows and, with a crew of 3, painted the faces of hundreds of will-be clocks. Tomorrow I'll begin free hand detail work in darkened versions of the paints used today. Here's a handful of the images I'm currently looking at, to gear my mind up for the work tomorrow:




I'll try to get some pictures before the show opens and I leave!