Karen Turner Stitching Life textile artist stitching by hand

Playing Tetris with Time

There’s a lot going on here. Lots of beginnings but, as always, nowhere near enough time for the middles and the ends.

I’ve rounded up (squared up) some neutral and tea-dyed scraps for patchwork pieces, which will be a quilt eventually. (Cream pieces on a cream rug – someone tell the photographer the artist could have made this easier. Oh hang on, that’s me. And me.)

Patchwork, for me, is always about finding or defining connections. Puzzling things out, making sense of things, piecing things together from a few clues. The joining of fragments, little flashes from the past, collecting memories into one place. Because we are our memories, to a certain extent. When we lose the ability to remember, our sense of self feels less secure because the thread that holds us between past and present is broken. We end up losing ourselves along with the unremembered experiences. I think of patchwork as a kind of holding together.

I like to piece patchwork in the evenings while watching TV or listening to music. Nice relaxing thing to do.

And that would be fine, except there’s already a nice relaxing evening job in progress. I either have to finish that before I can get to the patchwork, or I have to put that down (again) to work on the piecing.

If you’ve been with me a while, you might recall the beginnings of A Long Life, which has become the current evening project. I started it a couple of years ago and have been picking it up and putting it down ever since.

It’s about six inches wide, and when it’s finished will contain 30,000 stitches. I have no idea how long it is – I won’t measure it until it’s done – but I do know that currently it carries 18,788 stitches. Yes, I count them as I go along.

I change colour for every decade (every 3,500 stitches or so) and change thread for the start of each new year. Factoring in leap years, when it’s had its thirty-thousandth stitch, it will represent the number of days in the life of someone who is just over 82. I have no idea why I’m doing this.

On top of that I have a couple of other possible big projects whirring away in the background, one of which might be a new online course on zero-waste stitching (aka Using All the Scraps).

Definitely playing a game of Tetris with time here. Move one thing up to make room for another thing, and so on more or less indefinitely. Good job I like to be busy.

May

The last day of May and another monthly block complete on this year’s stitch journal, marking time and witnessing the passage of days.

May always feels like quite a long month to me but they all fly by in the end.

No real plan, as always. Just threading a needle and placing a few stitches every day. Watching what happens.

Some of the stitches end up looking like footprints. Which is just what they are, really. Steps along tracks and paths that lead somewhere.

People often ask about the curly/loopy stitching around the edge of some of the blocks. It’s just silk boucle yarn couched down with a fine thread. Nice effect with very little effort.

I’m easing into a more summery palette for this middle section of the year.

As usual, I don’t always like every single block. It doesn’t matter. Each block only functions as a witness; it doesn’t have to be beautiful. We can’t undo the moments or go back in time and change the past, which is why I don’t ever unpick the stitches I don’t like. It is what it is, we acknowledge its faults, and we move on. As soon as each stitch is completed, it becomes part of the past and therefore can’t be altered. It can be very therapeutic to accept the imperfections.

The other side always interests me. In some cases I prefer it.

June is waiting for me to meet her tomorrow.

Scraps

Birdie and I are in our happy place today.

I got ever so slightly sidetracked from what I started last week. I had to interrupt proceedings to deal with the scraps box, which was overflowing (and I forgot, in my distraction, to obtain photographic evidence of said abundance, but I know you’ve all seen an overflowing scraps box before, and I bet most of you have one of your own). I need the scraps box for something else right now, and that was a whole other sidetracking experience, cutting out lots and lots of paper piecing scraps. The scraps box is now temporarily a patchwork-pieces box, holding it all together.

temporary change of function for the scraps box

I sorted the scraps pile into lots of smaller collages where every tiny fragment will have its place.

I’ve also rounded up some very tiny/narrow strips and offcuts – selvedges, hems, seams, rolled hems from chiffon scarves etc) – all of which can – and will – be used.

The tiny strips can be stitched across the collaged pieces quite effectively:

There are a few little collages so far; these are about 4 or 5″ square:

I’m thinking of them as spots of time, a la Wordsworth (yes, Wordsworth again – no better poet, in my view, for exploring themes of experience, loss, and memory). In his long poem The Prelude, Wordsworth describes spots of time as moments that become profound memories with the capacity to rejuvenate and repair. I think most of the square collages might become round eventually:

collaged fabrics under a circular viewfinder

This one I think might just be complete as it is:

layered scraps, very simply stitched, about 5″ square

A square spot of time perhaps. I guess memories come in all shapes and sizes.

Spare a thought for poor birdie, though. I will be dismantling his nest.

Immersion

This piece takes its title from Wordsworth’s 1804 poem ‘Ode on the Intimations of Immortality’:

It hasn’t photographed well on this very dark wet Wednesday; the colours and layers are a little more subtle in real life.

The text fabric (above, top left) is a handwritten page from a nineteenth-century almanac that I scanned and printed onto tea-dyed cotton. If you iron fabric to a piece of freezer paper that exactly fits your printer (usually A4 in the UK), it’s surprisingly straightforward. I expected it to get snarled up and jammed in the bowels of the printer but it sailed through quite smoothly. I used to print on fabric quite often and had forgotten how effective it can be. If you set it with a hot (ish) iron after printing it appears to be reasonably water resistant, though I haven’t yet tried washing it.

Strength in what remains, detail of hand stitch and layered sheers

There are a couple more like this in progress, an ‘Intimations of Immortality’ mini-series, perhaps.

There’s also a heap of loveliness on the table that will be turned into something a little larger…

…related to more sketchbook exploration:

I am definitely busy.

Time Present

Recently I’ve been able to make a start on some new work, and the process of this modest beginning has been a truly joyful thing. I hadn’t realised how much I’ve been needing to do this.

So far, it’s about time, experience and memory. I’m beginning with the opening lines from T S Eliot’s Four Quartets as inspiration:

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.

What a vast line that is: All time is unredeemable. It’s irreversible and we can never get it back. The only time we can be sure of is time past, present in memory only.

The sketchbook I’m using for the wet media is a Fabriano aquarelle A4 sketchbook, 200gsm pages (no affiliation). Just firm enough for taking wet paint but not so stiff that the pages don’t bend.

Of course it had to have a cover:

And some details from its pages:

sketchbook page, oil pastel resist with watercolour and ink

white acrylic ink as resist with watercolour wash over the top

Mostly I’ve been exploring using watercolour, ink and collage. The above layered stitched work in progress is based on this paper collage:

I’ve been doing very loose sketchbook work, which is a great thing. I like the way it can be more a physical than cerebral process. I like to paint standing up rather than sitting because it somehow enables you to inhabit the process more, and to move around over the page more easily. It seems to generate and capture more energy. Drawing and painting can involve your whole arm as well as your hand, making expressive abstract marks and laying down whatever colours speak to you in that moment.

These are four separate sketches (unintentionally four quartets, perhaps), using inks, watercolours, and basic mark-making techniques, with no preconceived ideas about where it’s headed or what it’s going to be. Not my usual colour palette, but each one valuable in its own way, and time well spent. Even if you make something you don’t like much, it’s always worthwhile because you learn something. I think all of these might translate to cloth and stitch.

watercolour and ink over masking fluid resist

Also some calmer blocks and stripes, just to see.

It’s exciting to see these colours, shapes and compositions emerging. It may or may not lead somewhere, but for now it’s enough in itself. I have much more to read, and more blank sketchbook pages to fill, and it’s utterly delicious.

Promotion

One of the challenges of being self-employed is that you have to do All The Tasks, including the tasks you don’t enjoy much and the ones you aren’t very good at. In addition to that, the less creative tasks (admin, accounting, stock control etc) seem to take a disproportionate amount of time, leaving less available ‘creative’ time. It’s merely an observation, not a complaint; I’m very happy with where I am, but also I’m often surprised by how little time or space there seems to be for my own work to grow and develop.

For me one of the tasks on the ‘meh’-list is self-promotion and marketing, so when someone is kind enough to do this for me, it really makes my day.

Jen has very thoughtfully taken the time to produce a really lovely response to my Intuitive Daily Stitching course here – a glowing review and some very lovely words. (Following the link may result in a pop-up asking if you want to subscribe to Substack – just click ‘no thanks’ and you should be able to see the post.)

If you haven’t already, you can sign up for the course on my Teachable site here.

And you can buy my hand-dyed threads here

It will probably be a while before I dye more fabric or threads, so what’s in the shop is currently all there is. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I may never be able to keep up with the demand for thread (it’s physically impossible for one person, I had mild repetitive strain injury from winding the last batch) so new thread will happen as and when I can fit it in.

For now, I need to set aside some time to read, gather some thoughts, and start some new work – more of which later.

April

I say it every time, but where does it go?

This year’s overall plan was for it to look something like an aerial view of fields, a visual depiction of time and space. Each block is time taking up space, a few stitches marking the minutes that make up a life as well as a dimensional area on the cloth.

I don’t generally set out to depict ‘an event’ or anything representing what happened that day. It’s usually just a few stitches to mark the passing of that time.

It’s not meant to be a way of remembering the minutiae of daily life, but a bigger picture of the way time (mostly) passes without us even noticing. It’s the opposite of ‘wasting time’, if there can be such a thing. It’s about noticing and honouring time, because time is what allows us to be present here and now.

April detail, random swirly back stitch with silk perle 8

And really there’s no such thing as ‘now’. As soon as you’ve formed the concept of ‘now’ the moment has passed, to be replaced by another, different moment. And you can’t grasp that one either before it disappears to be replaced by another. The moments continue, if we’re lucky, for some years until they cease. Time really is all we have, from our limited human perspective. It’s days in a life, unbelievably fragile yet tenacious.

I don’t know anything about cosmic time, or astrophysics, or geographical time, but I do know time definitely seems to speed up as you get older. Stitching it down doesn’t make any difference, but I suppose it probably makes me feel a bit better about it. I still don’t know where it goes.

If you’re interested in learning how to make something similar, my online course is available here.

Setting out

I’m feeling settled enough in our new home to think about starting some new work, and I’ve made a start in a spiral bound square sketchbook that I’ve had for a little while. Sometimes these things only speak to you when they’re ready.

Of course I had to make a cover for it, as I do for most of my sketchbooks. I find it helps to illuminate some of the themes, as well as providing a little extra protection for the contents.

The cover wraps around the spiral binding and meets itself on the front. It’s not my usual colour palette:

I’m using a Two Rivers plein air pocket sketchbook, which has alternating pages of watercolour paper and cartridge paper. The pages are about 7.5″ square, so a nice manageable size.

I like pockets in sketchbooks. Actually I like pockets full stop. In my youth I went through a phase of wearing men’s vintage jackets purely because of the number and quantity of pockets, which utterly delighted me. I would keep finding extra hidden pockets all over the garment, inside and out. We no longer say the word pockets in our house. We always say pocketses, a la Gollum in The Lord of the Rings.

I’ve been using the watercolour-paper pages for direct painting, and the cartridge-paper pages for collaging.

So far it’s all very loose and sketchy, blending colours, shapes and words. I’m cutting the words from an old poetry anthology to create found poems, which is helping to navigate the direction.

ink and watercolour on TwoRivers watercolour paper

I don’t know exactly what it’s going to be yet, or where it might be going, but between us (me and the work) we will find a path. Or maybe this is enough. I think it’s leading somewhere, as most things do.

Some of it is already looking like textile work.

This page is just ink on wet paper with salt sprinkled over it. I enjoy the unpredictability of this kind of work. Play, really.

It’s a voyage of discovery as always, exactly like life. Travelling through time, we never know what will happen next. And yet, on we go.

Apron Two

I love it. I would totally wear it as a dress:

Thank you to Annie (in the comments section on my last post), who suggested that the scrap of orange could be an extra pocket. Yes it could:

There’s room for lots more stitching, but in the meantime it’s fully functional and ready for wearing.

And here’s the back:

Now of course I don’t want to spoil it by accidentally splashing paint and dye over it…

Aprons one and two

My plain white linen/cotton apron is now structurally complete, sewn entirely by hand, and I’m very happy with it:

The top stitching took a while but it looks OK I think:

Difficult to get a sense of scale from the photo but the stitches are just under 1/8th of an inch. I’ll be working some kind of embroidery on it when it knows what it wants to be, so the top stitching will be less obvious when there’s some decoration in place. It’s definitely a blank canvas at the moment.

I’m very impressed by the pattern and the way the pieces fit together so perfectly. The fit is pretty true to size too. I’m a UK size 8-10 and I made the Small, which fits really well. I trimmed about half an inch from the centre front as my shoulders are quite narrow, and I made it a tiny bit longer.

The second apron (same pattern) is now under construction, pieced fairly randomly from hand-dyed cotton and linen fabrics.

I’ve used a couple of hand-printed fabrics on the front; this one was from Hippos in Hats on Etsy and I’ve been saving it for just such an occasion as this:

…and with the hand stitched outline completed (it’s just straight stitch with cotton thread over the printed outline):

I’ve also used a couple of eco-prints from Jane Hunter, to which I’ve added a bit of very simple embroidery with colonial knots and straight stitch:

As before, I’m stitching all the seams by hand:

side seam showing notches for pocket placement

The lining for this one is very lightweight calico which I dyed a while ago. I wasn’t keen on the way the grey/red turned out, but it will do just fine as a lining. There wasn’t quite enough so I’ve added pieces of the same fabric in turquoise/brown:

lightweight calico lining, hand dyed with Procion

I accidentally dropped this earthy orange scrap onto the apron after stitching the front and sides together. I really like the splash of colour against that green and magenta/purple, so I’ll find a way to add it somewhere.

Looking forward to seeing this one done.

Karen Turner Stitching Life

Playing Tetris with Time

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May

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Scraps

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Immersion

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Time Present

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Promotion

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April

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Setting out

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Apron Two

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Aprons one and two

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