Poppy robe- finished

Overall I'm very pleased with the way poppy robe came out.  I like the simple shapes of the sleeves,  the asymmetrical wrap of the neckline, and the combination of large and small prints which contrast botanical and geometric patterns. I also like the optical effect of the big loopy lines and solid shapes of the poppies with the fast, flickery movement of the diamonds.

For the lapel,  I used red cotton batik with a design that reminds me of peacocks.

It's designed like a classic wrap dress with two attached belts at each of the front panels

and a side slit under the arm.

I decided on a cotton tartan weave for the belts, a leftover from one of my sister's projects that reminds me of her, and of our shared love of sewing.  In terms of the patterns, I like the contrast of the woven grid with the printed diamonds.  

One nice thing about the wrap-dress design is that it  holds the panels in place without an interior tie or button, which creates a neater fit than a basic belted robe,

and makes it feel a little more like a "dressing gown" , 

like this one that I like so much from Horrockses.

I really love that there are poppies running crazy all over me.

The double wrap design also allays my fear of degenerating into a version of Eric Stoltz's character in Pulp Fiction.

Given my background in architecture, 

it's no surprise that I approach sewing as series of small construction projects made up of parts, pieces, and attachments. I like to consider details, such as the placement of the rectangular top stitching (above) where the belt attaches to the panel . This looks like no big deal, and in a way it's not, but the offset stitching is strategically placed to avoid creating bulk.

That idea worked out well, but others, such as using the selvage for the, hem didn't.

The thought here was to expose the copyright and design credits along the bottom of the robe, but it came out too long; the first time I headed up the stairs I nearly broke my neck, so I'm afraid the hem will have to come up at least a couple of inches.

Time to wrap this project up. 

The pattern, which is made of pieces of old cotton sheets, is full of revision notes for next time,

and there are notes to organize from my sketchbook.  

Scraps

                               I'm well into sewing the Poppy Robe , and as I was cleaning up the scrap fabric, I was so taken with the eccentric curves and shapes-- what are essentially the negatives of the pattern pieces-- that I put them on the floor on a piece of black fabric, took a pic, uploaded it, and used the crop tool in Photoshop to create these smaller compositions.  This is a great way to learn about not only what I do and don't like, but to take the time to ask myself why  I'm drawn to some compositions and not to others.

This long skinny arched piece is an example of the kind of leftover shape that comes from trying to save on material by putting pieces as close together as possible. It's also the kind of shape I would never think to cut out, which is why I find these so interesting.

1960's quilts-- memory and association

I have very specific memories and associations linked with fabric; it's inclusive in the way I experience textiles. Recently I took pictures of the fabrics in a couple of quilts my mom made in the sixties.  She would have called them "nothing special" quilts, meaning they were made for everyday use-- simple 9-square blocks put together with no particular plan. It's interesting for me to see what I was looking at on a daily basis growing up, and think about how that's shaped my love of fabric and prints.
Case and point, the black and white fabric above is a good example of the "handpainted" prints popular in the fifties, like the Eduardo Paolozzi textiles below.

Something about this fabric with bicycles,



rocking chairs



and teapots-- random objects floating through gray squares-- reminded me of the things flying by the window in Dorothy's dream in the Wizard of Oz.

(you can watch it here  if the video doesn't come up)








These scream men's shirts from the fifties.

















These remind me of the seashore and sailing.

Geometrics are paired with florals



 ..these medallions and hand-painted greenery brought to mind



the basil I planted recently, which is flourishing just like Lisabetta's in Boccaccio's Decameron.


Day IV, Novella 5.
Lisabetta’s brothers slay her lover: he appears to her in a dream, and shews her where he is buried: she privily disinters the head, and sets it in a pot of basil, whereon she daily weeps a great while. The pot being taken from her by her brothers, she dies, not long after.

...read more of the story here . 



This is William Holman Hunt's painting of Keat's version of the story.
Unlike Lisabetta, I credit the health of my plant to Miracle Gro soil, not to my lover's head buried in the pot.

Patterns gone awry and aright and all over the wall

....and what's wrong with this picture?
Earlier in the week I was working out the top half of the robe pattern, trying a couple of different versions of sleeves,  and basted one on upside down.  I immediately thought of having to hold my arm over my head all the time just to wear the robe, then I started thinking about how we try so hard to change our bodies to fit fashion, and then I wandered way off track into Italo Calvino's "Invisible Cities" territory and  imagined a city of people whose bodies have mutated to accommodate the shoddiness of the garment industry.
That was about as far down that path as I cared to wander.

... paths, brains, wandering ...here is a diagram of the map our brain makes to locate ourselves in space-- for example, to remember where your car is in a parking lot.



Here's Neil Burgess explaining the idea in this TED talk 

Here is how is how we span space in steel.  Looks familiar. The structure itself is a construction of the force diagram as it appears in a physics book.

...close enough, anyway.  The point is that the same pattern that holds up the physical world around us is also inside of us, tracking where we are and where we've been.

This is an example of  a typical Islamic decorative motif.  Our aesthetic preference for complex triangulated geometry looks an awful lot like what our brain is doing when we're making a mental note of where the car is parked. Amazing.

Adapting a textile design to applique

This is a mock-up for an applique design I adapted from the 1950's textile design seen in the photo below.  I ran across it in a nice little paper-back called "Fun Fabrics of the 50's" by Joy Shih, one of a series she's written on vintage fabrics. 

For the lattice I used random black scraps of linen and cotton; the turquoise is Guatemalan cotton from my sister Kelli's leftover sewing stash.  The orange is silk, and the green, Italian linen.  The inset in the orange is rayon from some old palazzo pants I made years ago, that due to the wide, flowy legs, keep providing me with scraps. I like how the patterns, textures, and weaves of the fabrics bring another layer of complexity to the design.

This could easily be a pillow front but I'm not in a big rush to make it into a "thing".   For now I'm just experimenting, figuring out what I do (and don't) like to do, and little by little developing a system for living with,  i.e. organizing, lots of scraps. Gotta long way to go on that one.  

Doce de Coco

Burlap, rayon pants, 1960' cotton dish towel, leftover sewing scraps, silk, Italian linen

Doce de Coco from the album Obrigado Brazil.
The clarinet on this song is fantastic!