Elephant No. 301: Thread Painting

A couple of months ago, one of the women at my fibre arts guild showed us a piece of art made entirely of thread stitches. It looked a bit complicated, but I tucked it away in my mind to try for this blog. Since I have a bit of time today to fool around with something new, I thought I'd try thread painting for today's elephant.

Thread painting can be done in a number of ways. Some artists stitch over a preprinted design on fabric, or paint something themselves that they then stitch over. Others draw a design on water-soluble material, lay it on top of fabric, and stitch through both layers. The water-soluble material is then removed. A third type involves stitching through water-soluble material onto tulle, in order to create delicate lace. Almost all forms of thread painting use a sewing machine.

Thread painting by fibre artist Jan Rickman. This piece is stitched onto a
hand-dyed background.
Source: http://www.janrickman.com/Jan_Rickman_Contemporary_
Fiber_Art_Techniques.html

Although much thread painting is similar to machine embroidery on fabric, the type I decided to try for today's elephant involved stitching directly onto a water-soluble material. Once the design was complete, I would soak the piece in water to remove the backing, leaving me with fabric composed entirely of thread. That was the plan, anyway.

This was the brand of water-soluble material I bought, which feels a bit like non-woven interfacing. I remembered someone telling me that there are certain brands that rinse away more completely than others, but I wasn't sure if this was one of them.

Because I'd never tried thread painting before, I looked up a couple of tutorials online. I found this set of printed instructions useful, and these. A "thread painting" search on YouTube turns up a number of helpful tutorials as well. My favourite was a Nancy Prince video called "Stitches with Attitude", but it wouldn't upload here.

I started, as all the instructions suggest, by putting a piece of the water-soluble material into an embroidery hoop—upside-down to how I'd normally use it. The hoop apparently makes it easier to manoeuvre the piece of embroidery around in the sewing machine.

Next, I drew a loose rectangle and sketched an elephant shape onto it.

I decided to tackle the background first, which I thought would look interesting in multiple shades of green. The stitching method is rather weird, to be honest. For those of you who sew, you don't use the presser foot or pretty much any other kind of guide or tool. The needle just sort of goes up and down and floats wherever it wants, unless you're fairly careful to guide it with your hands. I didn't like this rather chaotic approach. Then again, if you use a presser foot, you can't see what you're doing at all.

I started with a forest green, making a bunch of loose vertical lines.

Next, I layered over these with an olive green. I really had no clue what I was doing, but I did like the interplay of colours. I was less fond of the way the water-soluble material stuck to the needle sometimes.

I also discovered that the water-soluble stuff has a marked tendency to tear if it's subjected to any strain at all. The elephant actually began ripping away from the background. This made me think that it might be a good idea to start laying in the elephant—if for no other reason than to secure the elephant and background to one another.

Stitching the elephant part just about made me toss the thing in the corner. I had mistakenly used inexpensive thread, which wrought havoc on my sewing machine's ability to stitch anything sensibly. It skipped stitches, broke the thread more times than I could count, and both bobbin and top thread became hopelessly tangled at least a dozen times.

When the elephant was roughed in, it was so lumpy, ugly, and stringy-looking that I began thinking I should have had a backup plan for today's elephant.

After a restorative cup of tea, I decided that I'd had enough of the freeform-no-presser-foot business. Accordingly, I put the presser foot back on, and began running lines of stitching all through the elephant. This tidied it up considerably. The downside was that I couldn't clearly see what I was doing most of the time.

Once I'd more or less repaired the grey of the elephant, I added a couple more shades of green to the background. I stuck to a vertical pattern, except around a few tricky corners. I also had the sinking feeling that the vertical lines might not overlap enough to keep them from shredding apart when the water-soluble stuff was rinsed away, So I added a few sweeping lines of green across the background.

To finish up the elephant, I added a bit of pink in the ears and mouth, a bell and necklace, and an eye. I also thought it needed a bit of definition in a couple of places, so I added a few single lines of black stitching.

This is what it looked like when it was still dry.

I was tempted to leave it at this and just clip off all the white stuff. But since I'd gone to all the trouble and trauma of using the water-soluble material, I decided to soak the piece in a bowl of hot water.

The instructions for the water-soluble material say to launder it. That was not going to happen with this particular piece, because I just knew I would end up with an unrecognizable wad of coloured thread.

I left it to soak for about an hour, occasionally rubbing off a bit of the water-soluble stuff, which becomes a bit like wet paper when soaked.

Eventually I'd had enough of that as well, and began running the piece under hot water. This still didn't remove every last shred of the water-soluble material, but it was at least presentable now.

The whole thread-painting process was highly irritating at times, but the result is interesting enough that I'll probably try it again. The final piece isn't as pretty as I'd hoped, but I may remedy that by adding a few beads and maybe a bit of hand embroidery, or even machine-stitch some darker grey to add a few shadows.

A few tips if you decide to try this:

1. Work on background and main design at the same time, or the water-soluble material will tear all over the place.

2. Keep extra bits of the water-soluble stuff on hand to lay under torn areas, then stitch over them.

3. Use good thread and sharp needles. The needles will become dull quickly, and the frustration of frayed thread and skipped stitches isn't worth the money you might save on cheap thread.

4. Make sure you have lots of thread on hand in your desired colours. My final piece measures only about 10 cm (4 inches) by 7.5 cm (3 inches), but I went through the combined equivalent of two 500-metre (550-yard) spools of thread. This activity is, however, a good way to use up weird colours you may have lying around.

5. Be prepared for your shape to deform along the way. Despite the fact that this was secured in an embroidery hoop, the water-soluble material is very fragile, with a tendency to shred and stretch. In my case, I went from a rectangle to something that looks like a template for a tiny lampshade.

This piece took me hours, so there is no way I'm trying it again anytime soon. On the other hand, I learned enough that I'm sure I will use this technique at some point. Next time on something even smaller, and with top-of-the-line thread.

Elephant Lore of the Day
Elephants are known for their intelligence, but not much is written about their ability to assess a problem and find a solution.

In 1922, W. Henry Sheak, who had worked around elephants most of his life, wrote about a large female Asian elephant with the Ringling Brothers menagerie. This particular elephant was often used as a "pushing elephant", manoeuvring wagons into place with her head.

One morning, the assistant superintendent of the menagerie used the elephant to push a heavy wagon across a muddy lot. At one point, the wagon got hopelessly mired in the mucky ground. Unfortunately, the more the elephant pushed, the deeper the wheels sank.

The elephant pushed for a minute or two, then stopped, stepped back and eyed the vehicle. To Sheak's astonishment, the elephant then stepped forward and reached down with her trunk. Heaving one of the wheels free while pushing with her head, she freed the wagon in no time.

Asian elephant pushing a wagon in Australia, ca. 1908.
Source: http://circuszooanimals.blogspot.ca/2011/04/princess-alice-
lady-of-wonderland-city.html

To Support Elephant Welfare

World Wildlife Fund

World Society for the Protection of Animals

Elephant sanctuaries (this Wikipedia list allows you to click through to information

on a number of sanctuaries around the world)

Performing Animal Welfare Society

Zoocheck

Bring the Elephant Home

African Wildlife Foundation

Elephants Without Borders 

Save the Elephants

International Elephant Foundation Elephant's World (Thailand) 

David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust

Elephant Nature Park (Thailand)

Wildlife Trust of India

Elephant No. 42: Machine Stitching

For today's elephant, I thought I'd attempt making a line drawing with the sewing machine. I've been sewing since I was really young, but this is a technique I've never tried. 

Although the first patent related to mechanized sewing was issued in Britain in 1755 to a German named Charles Weisenthal, the patent was only for a sewing machine needle. It said nothing about the rest of the machine—if a machine even existed. 

The first actual sewing machine appears to have been invented in 1790, when Englishman Thomas Saint patented his design for a machine to sew canvas and leather. A cabinetmaker by trade, Saint never advertised his invention, and the machine itself has never been found. His original drawings, however, were discovered in 1874 by a sewing-machine manufacturer named William Newton Wilson. Wilson built a working version of Saint's sewing machine, which is now in the collection of the Science Museum in London, England.

By the beginning of the nineteenth century, several other inventors had sewing machines in the works. Austrian tailor Josef Madersperger began developing a machine in 1807, and unveiled his working model in 1814. In 1830, French tailor Barthélmy Thimmonier patented a machine that sewed straight seams. By 1841, he had 80 machines in his factory, sewing uniforms for the French Army. Unfortunately, his factory was destroyed by rioting French tailors, fearful of losing their livelihood. Disheartened, Thimonnier soon gave up on his invention.

The first American sewing machine was invented in 1832 by Walter Hunt. Although it was revolutionary for its lockstitch—still standard on sewing machines today—Hunt's machine was clunky and had to be frequently reset. Hunt soon lost interest in his invention, and never bothered to patent it.

The first machine to be patented in the United States was built by John Greenough in 1842. American inventor Elias Howe—whose name is often associated with the invention of the sewing machine—created his own sewing machine in 1845, adapted from the one created earlier by Walter Hunt. 

Howe went to England to drum up interest in his machine. When he came home, however, he discovered that several people were infringing on his patent. One of them was Isacc Merritt Singer. Howe went to court, and in 1854 was granted the right to royalties from the sale of machines using ideas contained in his patent. This included machines made by Singer.

Elias Howe's lockstitch machine, ca. 1845.
Illustration by Frank Puterbaugh Bachman, 1918.
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Elias_Howe_sewing_machine.png

Singer had been trained as an engineer. While watching a sewing machine being repaired one day, he decided he could improve upon it. The resulting machine, powered by a foot treadle, combined various elements of the machines produced by Thimmonier, Hunt and Howe. Singer's machine would ultimately serve as the model for all mechanical sewing machines to come. 

During the 1850s, as more and more inventors enhanced the sewing machine's basic design, several companies were formed. They were soon suing each other over patents, resulting in a patent free-for-all known as the Sewing Machine War.

In 1856, the Sewing Machine Combination was founded, made up of four companies—including those of Howe and Singer. Over the next few decades, various changes and upgrades were made to sewing machines, including the development of an early overlock machine. The first electric sewing machines were produced by the Singer Sewing Company in 1889.

Today, many of Singer's treadle machines are still in use—particularly in developing countries, where sources of electrical power can be unreliable. Since the invention of the earliest sewing machines, sewing technology has developed by leaps and bounds. There are specialized machines for everything from upholstery to knitwear, and many of today's machines can be programmed with designs created on a home computer. 

For today's elephant, using only the machine's straight stitch, I decided I would see what kind of design I could make with multiple colours of thread. I thought it might end up looking a bit like something produced on an Etch-a-Sketch®, but I was okay with that.

I started with a double layer of unbleached muslin measuring about 35 x 35 cm (14 x 14 inches), and stitched a sort of sketch with the sewing machine. This was definitely the hardest part of today's elephant, because I had no drawing lines to follow. It's surprisingly difficult to know where the lines should go when you can only see a small portion at a time. Although most of it fell into place without too much trouble, I had to unstitch the elephant's sliver of right ear three times before I was happy with it.

When the general sketch was done, I started following along the lines with a couple of different colours of thread.

Realizing that it would take me forever if I just kept adding lines alongside one another, I graduated to big zigzag patterns. Once the concept of slavishly following the outline was broken, it was easier to simply fill in areas with various colours of thread.

I mostly followed what I figured were the general anatomical contours of the elephant's head, to give it a bit of dimensionality. Mostly, however, I just filled in the open areas with various colours of thread. The only areas I left untouched were the elephant's tusks.

This took about four hours, which was longer than I expected—partly because I kept changing colours of thread, and partly because this is actually a fairly big area to cover. I had visions of filling in far more than this, but decided to stop while I was ahead. 

Although it's a bit time-consuming, this technique isn't difficult at all. I used only a straight stitch, and always went forward—except for a bit of backstitch at the beginning and end of each line of stitching, to keep it from unravelling.

The final result is quite pretty in real life, but unbleached muslin plays tricks with the camera's sense of colour, so the pictures aren't the greatest. I would definitely do this again if I had an actual project in mind—and enough time to fill in a lot more.

Elephant Lore of the Day

In the Bay of Bengal and the Andaman Sea, loggers once required their elephants to swim from island to island. Legend also suggests that elephants actually swam from India to Sri Lanka, long before humans arrived on the island.

Despite their bulk, elephants are excellent swimmers. They swim either completely underwater, using their trunks as snorkels, or with their faces above the water's surface. 

Moving all four legs as they swim, elephants are quite fast, and can swim for long distances without tiring. They often travel in small groups, and are surprisingly graceful as they paddle through the water. 

Several adventure travel companies now offer people an opportunity to swim or snorkel with elephants off the coast of India. To see video of a group of swimming elephants, click here.

Elephant swimming in the Andaman Sea.
Source: http://swimmingelephant.blogspot.com/

To Support Elephant Welfare
World Wildlife Fund
World Society for the Protection of Animals
Elephant sanctuaries (this Wikipedia list allows you to click through to information on a number of sanctuaries around the world)
Performing Animal Welfare Society
Zoocheck
Bring the Elephant Home
African Wildlife Foundation