Some of my hand-carved stamps

I admit it… I’m a craft dilettante!

I was, several years ago, trying to integrate my rubber stamping hobby into my textile art. I loved the depth it gave backgrounds, and being able to use the stamps themselves as designs to stitch.

Then I ran into a problem. I had too many pieces to keep for myself, and, frankly, I didn’t just want to give them away to relatives and friends who might or might not appreciate them. (I have been asked on occasion, why would you want to do that by hand when a machine is so much faster? !) So it would be nice to sell some of my art.

Unfortunately for the situation, though not in the long run, copyright law applies to stamp designs (and needlework patterns, and designs in books, and coloring books… and a lot more, too!) You might think this is silly, since stamps are tools to make art, but how you are licensed and allowed to use the images you stamp varies by company to company. My stamp collection sometimes doesn’t specify company any more. Many of the stamps I have date from before I went looking for “angel” companies who allow you to sell your hand-stamped work. Even angel companies have different policies regarding how or whether you notify them. Prints of artwork created are generally not allowed, although this can be negotiable.  I didn’t want to have to go to the bother of tracking down the specific policy of each and every stamp I owned, and then keeping all the paperwork needed to prove I was in compliance – and what if I made art that just came out so cool that I thought notecards made from it as prints would be neat? Out of luck.

I decided that the easiest thing for me, was just not to use commercial stamps at all any more. Enter learning to carve my own (which has, in turn, led to woodcarving as an actual hobby {I didn’t think I was capable of hobbies any more!})… Did I ever mention that I play with WAAAY too many crafts? Maybe this blog should be Craft Dilettante! instead of Stitching with a Shimmy!

Léan at String Revolution reminds herself about what it means to create.

I haven’t forgotten about posting about my workshop – really.  I’m just still processing information.  (And we’ve been in crunch week at work.)

Back when my godson was three, he was fascinated by my rubber stamps. Although precocious, he wasn’t always careful to follow my rules, so I bought a set of inexpensive texture stamps and a set of cheap stamps and washable ink and paint just for him.

Sit down with your chosen small one , lots of colors of paints, stamp pads, crayons, and markers, and LOTS of paper. (Cover the kitchen floor and do it there — it’s a LOT easier to clean up than the dining table! and much more space to spread out in, too.)

Follow the child’s lead — at 3-5 they are generally naturally experimental – often we’ve forgotten the simple joys of making a mess by the time we hit high school. Assume the art supplies will end up trashed and purchase accordingly. They should be good fora year or so of this kind of use — weekly. You might be surprised – 10 years later I’m still using those cheap kid’s texture stamps!

What I learned from the three year old:

• Using all the paint colors on a foam stamp does NOT necessarily equate to a yucky mess.
• Mixed media is fun – I’m relearning this this year on my own…
• Colors that “clash” can create wonderful art together.
• FUN is the most important part of the creative process. Yes, there is work involved in the professional side, but even when it’s difficult, if some part of the project doesn’t trigger your sense of fun you won’t produce your best work. And yes, I do find this is just as true when I’m working with dark subject matter!

Little kids, when given permission to make a mess, create masterpieces. Borrow a friend or relative’s toddler if you need to — let them have a day off while you and the child create — just remember to warn Mom and Dad that their child will be coming home completely covered in paint (and be prepared to be just as messy yourself). Then go forth and have fun!

So what do I do at home? Well, I teach bellydance and am a member of a wonderful troupe, a decidedly NOT private endeavor. This is good. I get to be social three times a week at least – no, I HAVE to be social, which is good for this natural hermit. And I make art. I design needlework patterns (by the way, the business license went through last month… we’re getting there!) And I draw and paint.

I love to take the stitching and the blogging and the design-work to the coffee shop by myself. The fact that there are people around me is inspiring. But what I really enjoy is that for the most part, they ignore me. I can feel like I’m a social being and a hermit all at the the same time. And sometimes, just sometimes, someone will catch sight of what I’m drawing and ask me what gallery I’m in. OK, it’s only happened once, but it made me feel very good – like maybe this art thing COULD become more of my life.

My first was a little locking diary that my grandmother gave me. I remember it was red, and I got angry with it very quickly because it only had five lines per day, and they weren’t far enough apart to write in anyway. That attempt lasted about five days. (I was determined.)

When I was twelve, that grandmother – my special friend – died and I was very lonely. I don’ tknow what made me realize that I could journal in a spiral bound notebook — or that I could address entries to my Nini — but I did both. The letter-writing campaign helped me through my grief and the tribulations of Jr. High School.

I’ve been sporadic about it since — lots of writing — my journals were always words. I had sporadic sketchbooks of bad drawings as well, and steno pads full of novel notes — oh, and later a day planner which I still use for organization and calender-keeping.

Then in 2007 I took Sharon Boggon’s Studio Journal course online, and suddenly all of this had a point — sketchbook and sporadic journal have been consolidated — the “novels” none ever finished — will probably remain in steno pads and three-ring binders so that they stay together. Not to mention that writing fiction no longer appeals quite so much.

Then over the past year I discovered “art journaling” in a real way, rather than in the “oh look at those gorgeous pages in that artist’s journal, but why would I want to make that kind of art it’s not my cup of tea” kind of way. I still don’t think the making a beautiful page method will ever apply to my stuff — my art is more about playing with neat techniques and trying things out than getting deep into my soul — but i reserve the right to go wherever I feel like it in my journals — from bad art to bad poetry and up to great on both of those. And I’m shamelessly stealing techniques from the mixed media and art journalers. And by using the art journaling techniques such as Kelly Kilmer teaches in her Prompt a Day class (yes, I’m taking the February course…) and combining it with the splash and go method Ricë Freeman-Zachery propounds in her “journal spanks” prompts that just say that it’s YOUR book, just USE it! And combining it with Sharon’s “composting” method, I have to admit that my creativity has increased recently.

So if I’m missing from the blog for a post or two, don’t panic, I’m probably just stitching or painting! (Or shimmying, but that probably goes without saying! TWO count ‘em TWO shows this month!!!)

Last week we had rain. But we also had some sun – and what is the result of that combination? Rainbows! One of my favorite things.

A double rainbow, in fact.

One that got BRIGHTER as it was fading!

I was not only inspired, but put at peace. (Which probably explains why I didn’t post…)

I’ve been a rainbow fan forever ~ Past Worthy Advisor of Southgate Assembly #71, International Order of the Rainbow for Girls

I am developing a new understanding and respect for, some of the mixed media techniques currently in vogue. For a long time I would look at them and think, but everyone’s work looks the same! And I realize that this is the case with most techniques — I think as artisans we are sometimes worried about taking the next step into experimentation.

I’ve often said that I don’t understand why people aren’t willing to try things with their needle and thread — they say afraid, and don’t have enough courage to step outside their comfort zone — after all, it’s not like death is a likely result from what we do! But in looking at the new techniques in collage, and many of the needlework books, for that matter, and the push to “quick and easy projects,” I think I’ve finally come to an understanding — it’s not really the failure itself that scares us — it’s the waste (or perceived waste) of time that accrues with a failure in something as time-consuming as learning goldwork or beading – or quilting- or experimenting with putting all of these together.

We are all so busy with our lives that the idea of a failure that took weeks or months to discover can overwhelm us. I have felt it myself recently – the discovery that I need to rip out so much of the model for Tramatina caused that kind of stress — and the reactions I’ve gotten from people who see me working on ripping it or who have read the post simply confirms this. “Why would you want to keep going if you have to pull so much out?!”

The fabric collage and paint techniques, by removing the sewing may provide me with a way to experiment with textures, colors, and symbols without the time constraint. It can’t completely replace sample stitching, but it’s another tool for the toolbox! And it’s fun and much quicker!!!

Some of the many mixed media artists I’m watching for inspiration and ideas these days:

• Kelly Rae Roberts
• Ricë Freeman-Zachery at the Voodoo Cafe
• Aimee at Artsyville
• Alma Stoller
• Kelly Kilmer
• Sketch Taro
• Virginia Spiegel

Is easy for me to come by.  I love winter. I love the garden in winter. Last winter, and this winter to a lesser extent, however, have been extremely mild here in North Carolina. Very warm. For example, it was 65 degrees at one point last week. I miss my snow!

But I have had a chance to take these photos of the wonderful winter berries around the area.  I find them stunning, don’t you?

Yes, they are both of the same variety, but plants in different areas of town. That top photo is screaming at me to do something textiley with the theme… But I don’ t know what, yet.  Any ideas?

Why not? Doodling was hard for me. I’d ask Mom or friends how they did it, “Just turn off your brain and move your pen” was the answer. But I couldn’t seem to achieve both of those things at the same time, although I am perfectly capable of doing either at once (and I’m capable of turning off my brain and dancing!). What I realized much later is that the “turning off your brain part isn’t really necessary – what they really meant was “make your brain get out of the way for a while.”

Doodling, like rough drafts of writing, requires you to turn off the  inner critic that says to you “but you’re not accomplishing anything. That’s not REALLY art!”

Well, no, it’s not. It’s the building blocks of the practice of art, however. Think of it as a brainstorming activity – it doesn’t have to be pretty, it doesn’t have to be finished, it just has to BE.

Geometric Doodling

I have a few rules I set myself when I doodle geometrically. They were very effective in getting me started on geometric doodling.

1. Start with a small iconographic image in one corner. I use flags, flowerpots, a smiley face, hearts, a stylized cat, anything I can quickly churn out.
2.  Draw a diagonal line from that image across the page in some way.
3. Add a ribbon over the middle of the page. The image is sacred, but I’ll cross any other lines with the ribbon.
4. Start filling in spaces with random patterns. I played roleplaying games for years, so sometimes I’ll role a polyhedral die to decide what to put where. Things I often use, set up for rolling two six sided die are (when you roll a number, fill the space with the description:
   •    2    Wavy lines or wavy stripes
   •    3    Dots
   •    4    Large cowspots (blobs)
   •   5     Concentric outlines
   •   6     Lines radiating from any point
   •   7     Checker Board grid
   •   8     Stripes
   •   9     Spirals
   • 10    Checkerboard made from radiating lines
   • 11     Crescents
   • 12     Cross hatching
5. Repeat the last step until all the spaces are filled or you are bored out of your mind. (Or it looks cool to you and you want to stop!)

Organic Doodling

These are the first doodles I taught myself to do in high school.

• Take your pencil and draw a squiggle. It actually works better if you don’t actually look at the page while you’re scribbling.
• Open your eyes and look at what you have scrawled. Stare at it until you see something in it — like looking for cloud shapes in the sky.
• Darken the outline of whatever you see. Instant (sort of) doodle!
• Or, draw your squiggle large and use the list of geometric fillers to fill in the spaces.
• Expand your horizons and try different combinations when doodling. Pretty soon you will be doodling with the best of them! And sometimes, those doodles can inspire embroidery!

Doodles that are currently inspiring embroidery pieces, though they aren’t on fabric yet:

There is a debate raging through the dance community – quietly for the most part, although it flares up now and again. The debate revolves around the question: “by learning, performing, and transforming this dance, are we appropriating the culture of another people, just because it is exotic, in much the same way as Europeans in the 19th century appropriated the lands the dance comes from?

It’s a valid question, and one that bears deep thought. It can be easy, when you are American, and of multicultural descent, even if primarily European, to say, “Everything around me and my American heritage comes from different cultures, so what’s the big deal?” It IS a big deal to some Middle Easterners, many of whom feel that their entire culture is stereotyped by Europeans and Americans into the word “bellydance,” a word they don’t use to describe what they do.

Now, personally, I don’t see bellydance as much of anything but American. If I am discussing Egyptian dance, I’ll say “raqs sharqi,” if Turkish – “danse orientale” (which is, of itself a European term). “Bellydance” is an American term applied to a dance form imported in the 1800s and transformed into a performance art by mostly Americans, some of Middle Eastern descent, in the 1950s and 1960s, the US’s “Golden Age” of nightclub performances. I’ve seen many women, and some men, too, find peace with their bodies and their emotions as they learn this dance (a wonderful description of this phenomenon by another dance teacher). I respect its origins and try to learn as much about its history as I can. But “bellydance” in the US is as much Middle Eastern tradition as ballet is French tradition. It has drifted so far from its roots that while you can recognize the seeds of the movements as related, they are very different plants. I am not, of course, referring to the myriad of people who try very hard to learn the “traditional” dances (which have also been influenced heavily by colonial expectations, and could therefore be accused as being somewhat tainted even in their own countries. Modern Egyptian raqs sharqi, for example, has drawn from ballet as well as movements from various tribal groups in the region).

Which leads me to textiles. When I or my family travels, I am often gifted or purchase as souvenirs, fabric and embroideries. Sometimes I buy pieces here that were created specifically for export. The question my dance experience triggers is, if I use these pieces in my art, or even the techniques I learn from them in my art, is it cultural appropriation in a bad way? My community has always been extremely diverse. My friends include Vietnamese, Indian, Native American, European American, African and African American, and the list goes on. Personally, when I use a textile or a motif in my artwork, especially if it comes from one of the cultures I am tied to by friendship – it will be used to bring those friends and acquaintances into my work – much as I might use a piece of my grandmother’s dress in a crazy quilt to evoke her life and work. I try to incorporate every textile and image I use with respect. When all is said and done, someone somewhere will probably be offended, whether because I have excluded their culture, or used it.

But hopefully, the people who matter to me won’t be, because they know I respect them as people.

Thoughts? This cultural appropriation thing is a HUGE topic. And one that can fall into any genre, be it painting, dance, writing, textiles, etc.