Turning waste to potential

It has been a while since my last posting. The reason for this can be summed up in two words:

Grad. School.

With so much reading and synthesizing of ideas to be done, things in the studio are getting a little bit dusty. A temporary cotton shortage hasn't helped any. However, though things may be slow moving, they are moving.

I've got a warp all wound, waiting for its weft to come off backorder before turning into a [hopefully] grand quartet of quilted weaving. The cotton yarn I want should be available mid-December, just in time for winter break, so I'm hoping to get a lot of work done on these pieces at that time.

In the meantime, I've been working on ways to more permanently mount my soft pieces and make use of my weaving waste. I've gotten in touch with the art department at my grad school. Although they have no fibers shop for me to peer longingly into, they do have a sculpture shop, complete with a shop tech willing to help me out with some plywood-cutting needs. It is difficult, at the moment, to figure out specs and the practicalities of plywood moving without a car while keeping up with schoolwork, but with some care, I think I can get it done, and end up with some lovely, clean results. More on that as it develops.

I've also been working with my yarn waste, trying to transform it from waste to valuable material again. One of the only things I don't love about weaving is the unavoidable waste of so much yarn. I can never bring myself to throw the pieces away. Recently, I began the process of sorting them out and tying them end to end. I plan to use these pieced-together former-waste yarns as both warp and weft in little patchworked-yarn weavings. The idea of finding a use for what would otherwise be waste pleases me greatly, as do the notions of rescue and conservation brought to my mind by the yet-to-be-made cloths. Behold, what once was waste and now is full of potential again:

1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 1, 2.

I've been a bit distracted from the studio lately, with grad school coming up soon. (I begin in only a few weeks!) As such, I've given myself a break from ideas that require a whole lot of my brain, and focused on ones that involve mostly rhythm and counting.


This is the plaid I mentioned a few weeks back, finally on the loom. I think 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 1, 2, and repeat while watching cartoons. It's a good time.
I've been toying with different pattern ideas for a dress I would like to make with this cloth when it comes off the loom. Something with simple construction- a couple darts in a bodice with straps, a subtly gathered skirt, a couple patch pockets. I'm going to be careful with my patterning, because when the dress is done, I would like to have enough remnant for a self portrait of me in the dress made of the cloth on the cloth. That sort of echoing will make me smile.

In other news!

• I am looking into various types of power saws. I have decided on a way to present my work that I think I will be most pleased by, that will be clean and portable. The one hang up is my current inability to slice through plywood as easily as I can tear cloth. So, for the first time in my life, a power tool seems to be a necessity. Looking into it!
• Images of shears are still filling my walls. The more I use them, the more they seem to become a part of me. I will get back to this another day.
• Any moment now, Inside 12 opens. While I do wish I could be there, I am excited for everyone who is, and hoping it all goes well.

1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 1, 2. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 1, 2. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 1, 2.

Yarn Yardage

At this precise moment, I have one thousand, eight hundred and seventy two yards of cotton yarn dying in a tea bath.
One thousand, eight hundred, and seventy two yards. 1,872.
It's a bit incredible that that is only half of what I expect to use in this project.
When I am done I shall have over 3 yards of 30" wide plaid cloth. Of course, that's quite a few steps away, but still.
When you break it into actual yards like that, I am always astounded by how much I use for just one piece of cloth. It doesn't seem like nearly that much in person, at any stage of the process.

Keeping Count

In the last few weeks, I have embroidered 21 pairs of shears.

Tonight, I begin working on a tri-shear hybrid.

When that is done, I have 9 more planned.

Shears, shears, shears. There is so much I want to work on, but first I have to get these shears out of my mind for a while. So, shears, shears, shears.

Mid-December quilting

I've been hoping for a nice, clear skied afternoon on which to photograph the recently completed doodle piece (otherwise yet unnamed) but alas, it is southern California's brief rainy season, and photography-friendly conditions have been elusive. So until that changes, check out something about the piece that I am enjoying:


This is the back of the piece. It is as carefully bordered and presented as the front is.
I've always been intrigued by the backs of embroideries, the unexpected imagery that develops through the path of the stitcher's hand, the contrast between the intended image and the secret, hidden one. I'm often tempted to display work backwards, but always choose not to- I don't want to sacrifice the intended imagery for the unintended.
This time I decided to give both sides their due, so that the piece can be displayed as a finished work from either direction. Front and back have differently pieced borders in the same fabrics, related but different, just as the front and back of the image is.
It's an experiment, one I'm rather enjoying right now. I think it's fitting, as well- after all, the entire thing is an experiment.

In other news, here's something fun:


These are the first 1,000 pieces of what will eventually be a 3,969 piece quilt top. I've been wanting to tackle a full-sized quilt for some time now, but was putting it off because I simply didn't have fabrics I wanted to work with in the quantity needed for a really well-matched quilt. My hands and mind have been anxious for this sort of project, though- something long term, something full of order and repetition, something soothing- so I decided to go for it anyway. I picked a double nine patch pattern (like the one below) and plan to break up the intended large-scale pattern to create my own variation.


The neat part about this design, for me, is how it doesn't require (at least for about 54% of it) carefully matched fabrics. In the tradition of truly purposeful patchwork, the double nine patch gives me the chance to go through my stores of fabric, picking out even the smallest bits and finding use for them. If I can squeeze even one 1 1/2" square out of a scrap, it is useful.
Of course, by now I've gone through all of my basic pattered cottons, and have barely a quarter of the squares I need! That's another nice thing about this project, though- it lends itself to mismatching, so if some parts are composed of the materials I have now and others from scraps of future projects, that's ok. It's nicely frugal. It makes me happy.

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.

A thread color debate

Choice 2 won out!


Before I made a single stitch, I planned out which threads to use with which piece. The white piece would get a pale lavender, the pale lavender a darker purple (as seen above!) and the darker purple a white thread. This was my plan.

Now that I have begun, though, as it always goes, I am questioning my plan. Should I do as I planned, and use white thread to embroider the darkest piece? Or should I use the darker purple thread of the mid tone piece on all 3 pieces?


Or do I wait until Thursday afternoon, when I planned on going out for some quilting supplies anyway, and pick up a drastically darker purple thread, dark enough to stand out from the dark purple background? Each option comes with different implications.

The same color thread on all 3 pieces will ensure that the character is affected differently by the pattern in each piece. As the fabric grows darker and the patterns more apparent, the character will grow more overwhelmed- which is a good thing, congruent with the concept. However! Will the character be so overwhelmed on the darkest piece as to be hardly noticeable? Would I be ok with that, if it is the case? Conceptually, this is my strongest option- but is it the strongest visual one? *EDIT- This option isn't an option. While it is my favorite one, the thread I have already used on the mid tone piece just isn't visible on the dark piece. As much as it supports the concept, well, it supports it a little too strongly. I want the character to be overwhelmed by the patterns, not made invisible by them. Oh well.*

Using white on the darkest piece echoes the connective cycle I have planned for the final quilting- each piece receiving a treatment reminiscent of the piece prior. It connects 1 (the lightest) to 2 (the mid tone), 2 to 3 (the dark tone), and 3 to 1. This was my original plan, and remains my quilting plan. Conceptually, not as strong, but stronger than the next choice. Visually more apparent than the former choice, but will it be more apparent than the next?

Using a very dark purple on the darkest piece connects the 3 pieces in a different way, by applying a tonally darker thread to each piece. I feel that this is the weakest connection- but it could be the most visually pleasing.

I'm currently stuck. Opinions welcome!