Blue is (not) the colour
29 Feb 2012 4 Comments
in dye Tags: acid dye, Morley College, wool
Yesterday I took some of my newly cleaned fleece into Morley College to have a go at dyeing it. I was using acid dyes, which I was told came out the colour they appeared (unlike disperse dyes in the heat press, which are always much brighter).
I mixed some scarlet and turquoise dyes to give a deep blackberry colour, added the acid fixer, and mixed them with water in a tea urn. Then I put some fleece in and heated the mixture so that it was hot but not boiling. I left it for 20 minutes, then removed the fleece and rinsed gently in hot water.
To my disappointment, the wool came out salmon pink rather than deep purple – not a colour that appeals to me at all!
A swift consultation with the tutors elicits the explanation that “blue is a difficult colour”. Apparently you have to leave the wool much longer in blue dye for it to work, and even then it can still be problematic.
So I decided to experiment with locks of wool on a smaller scale (a bowl of dye on a hotplate). The photo below shows the effect of using orange, violet and blue to overdye the salmon pink (top row) and on virgin white wool (bottom row).
Even when I left the wool to soak in the blue dye over lunch, the overdyed sample came out with streaks of salmon pink. A bit more work required to crack this, I think!
Alighiero Boetti at Tate Modern
28 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in embroidery, exhibitions Tags: Afghanistan, biro, embroidery, flags, kilims, maps, Tate Modern
Making art from “upcycled” materials and textiles may be very fashionable now, but it’s been around for a while, as a new exhibition at Tate Modern shows.
Alghiero Boetti was born in Turin in 1940, and his first exhibitions featured many of the materials from the industries in the city – car paint from the Fiat plant, a plexiglass cube filled with wonderful contrasting textures of wood offcuts, plastic piping, styrofoam packing, fibreglass and corrugated cardboard. There’s even a classical fluted column made from cake doilies stacked on a metal pole!
But it was when he started taking an interest in travel and geopolitics that textiles came to the fore. After the Six Day War in the Middle East in 1967, he asked his wife to embroider the shapes of the territories occupied by Israel. He also coloured in a school map so that each country was represented by its flag, and took it to Afghanistan, where he commissioned local craftswomen to embroider a larger version. This was the first of his maps, which was done in Bokhara stitch, a very dense but time-consuming couching.
There’s a whole room of these embroidered maps made between 1971 and 1994, and it’s fascinating to see the changes over the years. Early maps used the Mercator projection, where Greenland is the same size as Africa, before switching to a Robinson projection. You can also track political shifts, as the flag of Portugal was replaced by Angola in 1983, and the last map from 1994 loses a great block of red as the former USSR is broken up into a collection of independent states.
The embroidery canvases were designed in Italy and sent to Afghanistan (and later Pakistan) to be embroidered, but Boetti often left gaps for the Afghans to include their own messages, so the borders juxtapose Italian texts with Persian messages about exile, composed by Afghan refugees in Pakistan.
The refugees also wove 50 kilims, some of which are on display. The pattern of these kilims is based on a grid of 100 squares, each of which is also subdivided into 100 squares, or pixels. The corner square starts off as one white pixel and 99 black pixels; the next one is two black pixels and 98 white pixels; the next one is three white pixels and 97 black pixels. So as the number of pixels follows a progression, the colours alternate.
As well as embroidery, Boetti explored lots of other concepts, including postal works using different combinations and patterns of stamps, and a lamp that lights up at random for 11 seconds a year (which didn’t occur during my visit!).
I particularly loved his works produced using biro pens, where individual students covered large sheets of paper with tiny blue strokes of biro. Even though they were all using the same tool, the different styles of mark making are very apparent, punctuated by white commas that encode various phrases. The overall effect reminded me of Japanese indigo dyeing.
The final room is a riot of colour, with three large embroideries called Tutto (Everything). Boetti cut out lots of images from magazines and newspapers and laid them out on canvas so that they all fitted together, then traced around them before sending them off to be embroidered.
There were lots of ideas in this exhibition – about the role of the artist being to explore inefficiency and wasting time, about how artists are expected to be private creators and at the same time public showmen producing spectacle, about creating a new world from pre-existing materials.
Indeed, the final exhibit of Boetti’s bronze self portrait on the balcony shows the artist spraying water onto his head, which conceals a heating mechanism, causing the water to turn to steam and evaporate. As the exhibition guide notes, “he shows himself as a thinker with so many ideas that he needs to cool himself down”.
Alghiero Boetti: Game Plan is at Tate Modern until 27 May 2012.
Chrissie’s kindness
24 Feb 2012 1 Comment
in felt, multimedia Tags: Chrissie Day, foot lasts, leaves, mulberry, silk
Great excitement this morning when I picked up not one but two parcels from the sorting office. They were from Chrissie, who has not only lent me some foot lasts, but was also kind enough to include a small present – an undyed mixed media pack, including silk cocoons, silk throwsters’ waste, silk rods, bleached mulberry bark, skeleton leaves and silk threads.
Most of these I’ve never used, so I’m really looking forward to experimenting with them. Thanks so much Chrissie!
Washing the fleece
23 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in Uncategorized Tags: fleece, lanolin, salad spinner, scouring, sheep, wool
The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the frogs are stirring in the pond. Time to make a start on cleaning my fleece!
As ever, the advice on how to do it was contradictory. Magdalen, who gave me the fleece, wrote on her note that I should soak it in lukewarm water for a couple of hours without soap. Debby, my tutor at Morley College, said that if I wanted to dye it (which I do), I should put it in cold water with a little detergent, as the lanolin in the fleece resists dye because it is too oily.
Online, the consensus among spinners seemed to be that using hot water and dishwashing detergent was best, as long as you don’t agitate the fleece and don’t let the water get cold, as this causes the lanolin to reattach itself to the wool. Eventually I decided to use the method outlined by Fuzzy Galore. But as I can’t do all the fleece in one go anyway, I will probably try different techniques on different batches.
When I laid it out on a plastic sheet in the garden, it became clear that it wasn’t in one piece, like a sheepskin rug, but several large clumps. I picked off some of the grubbiest bits of dung, plus the largest bits of straw, thorny twigs and other vegetation.
Then I picked a clump that didn’t look too grubby, filled the kitchen sink with hot water, added some Fairy Liquid, and gently pressed the wool so that it was submerged in the water. I left it for 15 minutes, by which time the water was filthy, scooped out the wool into a bowl, drained the water and repeated the process. The water wasn’t so dirty this time.
Then it was two 15-minute rinses, again in hot water but without the detergent. The final rinse water was a little cloudy but not dirty.
I was a bit worried about spinning it in the washing machine, as many people seem to recommend, so I put a few handfuls in the salad spinner and span it by hand! This was actually very effective and didn’t take too long.
Then I laid it out on some net curtain on top of a rack above the bath to dry. I’ve managed to do three batches, which I reckon is about half the fleece.
As you can see, the wool is much whiter than it was, and it’s considerably less smelly! It doesn’t seem to have felted anywhere, so either I have handled it really well, or it’s going to be difficult to get it to felt!
Machine embroidery on felt
22 Feb 2012 10 Comments
in embroidery, felt Tags: honeycomb felt, machine embroidery, raw fleece, sheepskin, water soluble film
One of my new year’s resolutions was to try to get to grips with machine embroidery. I still haven’t found a way to drop the feed dogs on my ancient sewing machine, so for now I’m restricted to practising at college.
At the moment I’m making mostly 3D felt, such as pots, Kindle covers and slippers – and it’s not very easy to machine embroider these items once they’re complete. Therefore I was interested in this post by Ruth Lane on The Felting and Fiber Studio blog about stitching on dissolvable fabric and then felting it onto the fibre as part of the felting process.
So yesterday I stitched a pattern like a flower – a circle with radiating narrow petals in black thread on plastic water-soluble film. I made a pot using a flat resist in the usual way, adding the stitching on top of one side as the final layer, and started rubbing.
The film dissolved without any problems, but because the stitching was quite fine (single rows of straight stitch, except the circle), the “petals” soon started moving around. Not a problem – the original petals were of irregular sizes, so there was no beautiful pattern to spoil.
More of a problem was that the single lines of stitching didn’t really want to felt into the wool. I suspect the thread was probably polyester rather than cotton (it didn’t say on the reel), and that there wasn’t enough for the wool fibres to grip onto. The circle of stitches around the rim of the pot did felt in better.
In the end I laid some fine wisps of wool over the stitching, but at too late a stage for it to felt properly onto the wool beneath. Final result below:
In the afternoon I decided to try again, with another new technique – honeycomb felt. I tried making honeycomb felt once before, not long after I started felting, and it was fairly disastrous: not having any marbles, I used styrofoam pellets, which flattened and stuck to the felt.
This time I used proper marbles, trapped between four layers of wool and overlaid with more stitching (thicker lines this time!). I had to rub very well between the marbles, and did manage to roll it a bit, though it was rather bumpy! The washboard was much easier to use and more effective.
The piece provoked various unflattering comparisons from my tutor and fellow students, mostly centring around boils and pustules! Personally, I prefer to liken it to volcanoes and lava flows.
Finally, after a long day at college, I got home to find an entire sheep’s fleece in my front garden, delivered by a friend from Ireland. As I’m not sure what breed it is, Chrissie has suggested that I make it into a raw sheepskin rug.
However, I would like to have a go at cleaning, carding and even dyeing at least part of it – so expect some future posts on this!


















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