Banner Project I And Also Some Embroidery: Everything's Coming Up Daisies

""You can't put it together again unless you've torn it apart first."  --Vallista proverb

The part several days have not been productive on the sewing front for a concatenation of reasons, which culminated in a disintegrated bookshelf, piles of books stacked everywhere, piles of cables in all directions, and less organization of my fabric & notions than when I'd started.  Still, I had opportunity for a little bit of portable handwork on Friday, where I began my piece of a project related to the banner--to wit, embroidered daisies for the Laurel cloak (or coat, in this case).  

"Marguerite" page from the Grandes Heures of Anne of Brittany, c. 1505

The reference image given for this project is from Les Grandes Heures d'Anne de Bretagne, illuminated between 1503 and 1508.  As you see, it's not exactly the basic daisy we know from field and roadside; there's a purple-burgundy-ish rim around the outside of the petals that fades into a hint of pink, rather than just plain white.  This seems like a job for needle-painting, which is a very common 14th-century (and later) embroidery Thing, and I really needed to learn it therefore, so why not start now?

Needle-Painting loves me, it loves me not...

The usual stitch for needle-painting is long-and-short stitch.  This looks like it ought to be tolerably simple--make some stitches long and some stitches short, and change colors so the long bits of color 2 run into the short bits of color 1, thus giving you the shading you want--but I am finding it challenging, to say the least.  I expect that, as usual, the way to succeed is the same way you get to Carnegie Hall: practice, practice, practice.  In the meantime, though, three hours of painstaking labor ended me up with two petals, looking rather as if they were colored by an eight-year-old child.  Fortunately (?), with so many petals on a single motif, there's a decent chance that by the time I get to the last two, I may have developed some small skill in this field. 

It looks strangely like my wireframe diagram.  I'm so confused.

After this diversion, I went on to make some advances in the banner department; finished stitching the bend down, cut out the daisy shapes, and placed & pinned them onto the ground.  I had intended to cut out the daisy centers and appliquéing them to anchor the main daisy part before stitching all the petal details; but after the last round of hilarity, I wonder if I didn't ought to baste the daisies down first.  

Usually, when I find myself debating whether to do a thing or not, the right choice is whichever one I have the most resistance to.  And I'm waiting on the gold velvet for the daisy centers anyways.  

Grump.

The other task available right now is doing the needle charge on the bend; which involves spelunking in ye boxe of scrappes (i.e., making even more mess in the office/workroom).  Though, this has the advantage of forcing me to re-examine the scrap box...of which there are actually two...and come to a conclusion of how much scrap one can sensibly accommodate in a 1-BR apartment.

Bonus Link: an astonishingly fine needle-painted portrait of Charles I of England.  You'd think it was painted with actual brushes.  

Banner Project I: Why We Baste

No, not that kind.  Though it's equally important.

It's not particularly usual for me to come home from work & be ready to sew without a fair amount of dithering, futzing, yak-shaving and other avoidance; so to have had that situation, work steadily for two hours (with a break for delicious caldo verde brought to me on the couch by my loving and nurturing sweetie), only to have to unpick everything that I did, is particularly galling.

As is often the case, this lamentable state of affairs is nobody's fault but mine.  I have been slowly growing a visceral understanding of how important (and how much easier it makes your life) to baste when you are making clothing; and I knew that it's critical to have pieces on a banner lie flat, or it will be stupidly obvious; and I even knew that the materials + technique I was working with were not forgiving in this category.  But I was worried about time, and I thought "oh, if I get it all flat on the ironing board and pin carefully it will be fine".

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA no.

It is, I am coming to believe, axiomatic that any time I cut a corner to save myself time or trouble, I am in fact shooting myself in the foot and will end up worse off than had I just done it properly in the first place.  Indeed, in this case I am particularly desirous to smack Past Me upside the head because, after unpicking the work, re-flattening it, and pinning it again, it took me less than ten minutes to baste it down.  And lo! everything lies flat as I attach it!  Quelle surprise!  :-/

Lesson learned.  Back to production.  

Anyways, it's probably a judgment on me for watching Starship Troopers while sewing.

"Recruit-Trainee Rico, you are sentenced to ten lashes for being a damfool.  Everyone else, beefcake for dinner tonight." 

Banner Project I: Actual Production Begins

I HELPZ MOTIVATE

It was something of an uphill battle to get motivated to work last night; partially because it's hot, sticky, and disagreeable in NYC right now, but also because I tend to block hard when it's time to actually kick off production.  However, after several rounds of yak-shaving in order to get the entertainment of choice on the magic picture box, I slowly set into motion.

I measured out the desired real estate of the ground fabric (which is 3' by 4'), turned the remaining vertical amount over to make the top pole loop, and pinned it down.  Then I cut the gold brocade for the bend, placed & spaced it on the ground fabric, and pinned that down, which is not minor work when you are dealing with velvet; wrinkles and puckers become super-obvious, super-fast.  The next stage was to lay the cord that would both decoratively border the brocade, and also in its attachment attach said brocade to the ground fabric.

One of these things is not like the other.

Whereupon I realized that a cord that seems very heavy and ornate on a small embroidery motif is microscopic at banner scale.

Resolutely determined not to panic, I dug around in the Box O' Trim and came across a thick twisted cord of gold, blue, and black; and, mirabile dictu, there was enough of it to do both sides of the brocade strip.  So let it be done!

...Not that it got done; I'm not the fastest worker ever, and I have to go even more slowly than is my wont to make sure that everything is lying flat and tidy-like; this task is probably at about 15% completion.  But, as the saying goes, "well begun is half done"--and I will be able to just pick it up and work without being covered in bees.

At least, until I have to start cutting out the daisies.

Banner Project I: Tech-Mo-Logical Mockup

That "needle" is actually a squished Florida.  For some reason, OmniGraffle has all 50 states as premade objects you can stick in.  Don't ask me. 

Above you can see the mockup, the wireframe if you will, of the banner charges.  I wanted to get, at the very least, some notion of how many daisies were under discussion, and more specifically what sort of spacing and alignment would work.  It is rather regimentally regular, but what I see in the period depictions (at least in arms rolls) seems to go in that direction.

New concern: getting the bar to the edge of the fabric and making it flush and tidy without unsightly bumping or blue peek-a-boos.

Sudden inspiration: oooh, why not have a heavy decorative cord along the sides and bottom of the banner, and use that to attach ground fabric + lining + the bend together, in the way tablet weaving was used in 14th century purses and buttonhole edges?

Nothing Is Ever Easy: That means I have to slot in a garment center run.

Banner Project I: The Devil In The Details

"Perhaps you'd consider changing your arms slightly?"

Here are the topics I'm currently chewing on:

1. Initial digging indicates that most banners of this ilk were appliquéd by laying a cord along the edge where the charge meets the ground fabric, and couching that down to attach the layers (rather than using blanket stitch or the like).  Shall I use gold cord for the whole thing, or a plain-colored cord for some parts of the motif? Gold would sure be shiny, though I'm not sure I have enough for all those gorram daisy petals.
2. Semy (semée), the powdering of charges across a field, can be depicted in one of two ways: either pretending as if the charges are part of the ground fabric, so that if the spacing means that you're cutting a charge in half, then you only put half the charge there; or by treating them as whole charges so that if one would get cut off based on the pattern + the edge of the ground, you just don't put anything there.  Both styles are found in period (here's an article, if you're curious to know more).  I feel as if the part-of-ground-fabric method is more Frenchified--classically, the old arms of France which are a semée-de-lis (rather than the three fleur-de-lis we're used to now) are usually depicted in that style--but I'm a little worried about my capability to make that work neatly along the edges of the fabric, so I'm presently inclined to stick to full charges only.
3. The threaded needle looks awfully lonely on the central bend.  A charge, if not blazoned otherwise, is depicted "proper", which in the case of a needle is "straight up and down".  I can increase its visual impact by giving it more of a thread tail artistically dangling, and I will, but I am flagging it as a concern.
4. I wonder if I oughtn't put some kind of weight (another rod pocket, or a strip of heavy canvas as interfacing, or something) along the bottom of the banner to help keep it hanging straight?



The arms of France until 1376

5. Dear OmniGraffle: your documentation for how to evenly space objects across a canvas is shit.  This is a basic function.  Get with it.

Today's docket is chiefly full of housekeeping chores (read: put a whole bunch of crap we never use into tubs and shift it into the building's shared storage space; also get a jump on the week's food production) so I don't know if I shall make any production headway today, but ideally I'd like to at least position and start attaching the bend.

Banner Project I: A Field of Daisies

I could say that I swear all heraldic art I do will be done cheerfully, but I would be a horrible liar.

As usually happens, we come back from Pennsic and are immediately plunged head-over-heels into another project.  This year, it is one of our nearest & dearest being inducted into the Order of the Laurel, and I have committed to make a banner of her coat-of-arms for this grand occasion.  

Banners are awesome.
(Pennsic 44 opening ceremonies; photo by Simon Pride)

I haven't made a banner before, though I have helped with the execution of several (like a certain muckin' big red one with a muckin' big white escarbuncle on it, ahem).  Banner-making has been on my list for some time, as it's a wonderful opportunity for Proper Medieval Display, but it's kept getting pushed to the bottom of the queue by other projects.  (Also, in my youthful exuberance I registered stupidly complicated arms.  Great job, Past Me.)

To return to the current task--the arms to be displayed are Azure, semy of marguerites argent seeded, on a bend Or a needle threaded azure.  For those of you who do not speak herald, that means a blue background with a wide gold diagonal bar across it; a blue threaded needle on that gold bar; and the rest of the blue background is sprinkled with white daisies that have gold centers.

Speaking of complicated.

Appliquéd trumpet banner, Charles II of England, 1660

Since the lady being honored is of early 16th-century France and specializes in the courtly garments of that time and place, and since this is a high ceremonial occasion, I am making a sumptuous banner for indoor display.   That means I'm choosing rich, heavy fabrics--were it a banner for outside use, like the ones in the photo above, I'd make it of painted silk instead so it could be all fluttery-in-the-breeze-ish.  I have lined up a sapphire-blue cotton velvet for the ground fabric, yellow-gold cotton brocade for the bar, and gold cotton velvet for the daisy centers.  (Cotton isn't exactly rich, no, but we are none of us so wealthy we can afford silk velvet or damask.)  I have some white brocade I could use for the daisy petals, but I have to haul it out of the stash and see what I think of the look of it with the other materials.  I have to decide what to use for the blue needle (quaere: would it be acceptable to embroider the needle onto the bend?) and choose something appropriate to back the banner with once the devices have been attached.  

I'll do a sketch using Visio or OmniGraffle to get a good layout of all the design elements.  Then the construction steps run something like this:

1. Trim the ground fabric to the right size plus seam allowance, making sure there's enough room at the top to loop over to hold a banner pole!
2. Chalk the designs onto the ground fabric.
3. Cut out the gold bend, appliqué it to the ground fabric
4. Cut out the blue threaded needle, appliqué it to the gold bend
5. Cut out the daisies, appliqué them to the ground fabric 
6. Use a contrasting thread to outline and delineate the daisy petals.  (Heraldic daisies have a lot of petals, so I'm not cutting them out individually.)
7. Cut out the yellow daisy centers, appliqué them to the daisies
8. Attach the backing fabric
9. Make the pole loop along the top of the banner
10. Make or acquire a pole and cord to use to hang the banner.  

If I have time, I'll couch gold cord to outline the gold bend and possibly the daisy centers in between steps 7 and 8.   If I have lots of time, I'll find some way to stick some pearls in...

Oh, and this has to be done by Labor Day weekend.  aheheheheh.

Steps 1-360; or, How I Spent The Last Five Years

"you bitches been sewin' or what?"

In spite of the witticisms in my previous post, I actually have some record of what I've been making the last several years--Beth and I started a Google spreadsheet awhile ago to track projects; both what we had in the queue, and what we had finished.  The problem is, I tend to forget to update it during crunch time, so sometimes things go undocumented (primarily small bits, like royal favors or embroidery pieces I've done for people's peerages--everything in here is full clothes).   Still, I can say that I've made At Least 23 Things since I got back into harness in 2010:

• For me: 
• five 14th-century fitted gowns (the kind of dresses in the photo above), one of which was entirely sewn by hand
• one pair of sleeves for a 1450s Italian gown ("gamurra") I'd made years ago
• one 1540s Florentine silk gown
• one pair of hand-sewn woolen hose
• a linen "St Birgitta" cap, lacking the funky embroidery, feh
• two or three chemises, one of which was entirely sewn by hand
• For others:
• one 14th-century dress for a Queen of the East Kingdom, which I have no idea if she ever wore it or what; I never even got an acknowledgement of receipt.  (Though I do not know whether that's an issue with Her Then-Majesty, or with the person coordinating the project.)
• several linen shirts
• a chemise
• one pair of perioid pants (there may actually have been two; I forget)
• three tunics
• And this year's sudden plunge into the Elizabethan era...
• one doublet
• one jerkin
• three pairs Venetians (a kind of knee-length pants)

Plus I learned how to make fingerloop braids and lucet cords and cloth buttons, and embroidered enough stuff to achieve Journeyman ranking in the ancient and honorable guild of the Keepers of Athena's Thimble.  

When I lay it out like that, it seems a pretty respectable oeuvre, particularly when done contemporaneously with taking on a new and much more difficult job, two apartment moves, and two intense relationships (one of which culminated in a new living situation).  But I am still continually combating a feeling that I'm not doing enough, I'm not learning fast enough, my work isn't good enough to show/be proud of, und so weiter.  There's an important question here, of exactly whose expectations am I trying to live up to?  Still, when you're showing a hand-sewn dress at an arts display and people keep asking you "oh, did you weave that fabric?", one is inevitably left with the feeling that to answer "not only no, but hell no" is considered a bit on the slack side.

A journey of a thousand miles sometimes begins at Step 361

Since I lamed out of the LiveJournal/Dreamwidth universe some several years back, I haven't had any unified place to record my rambling progress deeper into the arts of the needle.  This has inevitably led to having no idea what I've been doing with myself, other than by analyzing the increasing piles of fabric scraps and thread orts in the manner of an archaeological team excavating ancient rubbish sites.

So, here we are.  There will be regular current posts--mostly of course about my historical clothing/accessory foo, but I reserve the option of throwing in the modern knitting shenanigans on occasion as well--and I'll also throw in reprints of older stuff I come across in the ruins of former social media homes.