Years ago, I found a blackwork kit at one of the big needlework shows in London. It was by a company called Needle Needs, and the design was a cat’s face, called ‘Tabatha’. It was beautiful, very detailed and delicately graduated to convey all the shading accurately. I no longer own the stitched piece, and although I once had a photo on my PC, several house moves & a PC change later, I can longer find that either. The company does not seem to existny longer, and on this vast world wide web, I can’t find any other images of the design, either. Oh, well.
It ruined me for blackwork. It was one of the first blackwork projects I stitched, after a couple that were much smaller. I loved the design too much to be daunted by its complexity. After that, though, I could never find another blackwork piece approaching the same level of design quality and moved on to her stitch techniques. The market has grown a little, since then – although graduate blackwork is still not exactly common – and there are some good designs about (Derwentwater to some interesting landscapes in blackwork using different colours; and Tanja Berlin has some stunning peacock & butterfly designs); but like I say – the stitching ship has sailed, for me.
What ‘Tabatha’ did do, was inspire me to experiment with graduated blackwork myself. I did a few small pattern studies, then leaped straight in to try charting my own cat, ‘Colin’. I’ve lost the original photo I worked from, but I’ve added a pixelated cross stitch chart version below, as well as one of the variations of a blackwork version (I did a few, using different filling patterns, as the patterns make quite a difference to the overall effect). I didn’t really pursue the idea any further. ‘Colin’ was no competition for ‘Tabatha’, and my own stitching was leading in different directions, anyway.
Recently, though, the subject of cats (and blackwork) came up with a couple of my model stitchers, so I sent through a couple of my old charts of ‘Colin’ – completely without instructions; I had had no thoughts or intention of kitting them at all. The charts were well-received by both stitchers – one of whom suggested an idea to me that had never crossed my mind, but actually, is very worthy of consideration.
She asked if I had thought about taking commissions and charting other people’s cats (/pets) for blackwork. Well no, I hadn’t! But actually, why not? The principle is fairly straightforward – a photo is cut down into it’s varying shades of light and dark, and then insead of cross stitch, blackwork filling patterns of varying density are applied, instead. I’m surprised that in these days where photo-charting computer programmes are commonplace, that no-one has invented a programme that will do it automatically. (But perhaps they have, and the news just hasn’t filtered through, yet…)
In the meantime, though, I’m going to give it a trial run, and see what happens. I don’t know that commission work is necessarily a direction I want to go in, but I’ll see if I can recreate the apparent success of ‘Colin’ before I need to think about making that decision.
I always stitch with overdyed threads. I do this because I like them. I love the serendipity of the colour placement, and the fact that a piece stitched from the same pattern will be different every time. If you have a symmetrical design, you can take care with the threads (sometimes starting a new length before you have finished the last) so that the colours fall in the same place on a mirrored image, or you can just stitch as the thread comes and see what happens.
I think I’m unusual in that I ONLY stitch with overdyed threads, but at the same time, I do appreciate from a design perspective that a plain/solid colour can be the best way to enhance and complement an overdyed shade. But there are so many types of overdyed threads around these days that I can get around this. Some overdyed threads have quite dramatic, contrasting colour changes; others are far subtler, and often only have very minor variations within one shade of the same colour (sometimes not even as dramatic as light to dark). Therefore, I simply pair a more dramatic colour scheme with one in a shade of minimal contrasts, and then neither shade is compromised. Subtle shades can usually be stitched together without danger, but more dramatic colour combinations stitched within one piece can either clash, or just look messy. Serendipity is one thing, but the point of design is to harness a thread’s special features, and makes its character workfor, rather than against you.
Which brings me to my point, really. Now personally, I’m not a big stitcher of cross stitch (although I have done quite a lot in the past) but I do enjoy designing cross stitch, and I love to see the finished results – especially if someone else has done the stitching! BUT when I create a design, I visualise in my head how it would look if I had stitched it myself. When we are talking about overdyed threads (which we are) and somebody else stitching the design, it would be rare for a stitcher to automatically stitch it in the same way that I would myself and therefore come close to my visualisation.
This leaves me with something of a quandary. Should I give the model stitcher guidance on how I would like the finished piece to look? I have decided yes, I should. Because although everyone else who stitches the design might stitch it in a different way and therefore have a different visual end result, at least I have demonstrated the design as it matches my own vision. But then, should I give the same guidance within a kit so that subsequent stitchers can replicate the design as closely as possible to the model stitcher’s version? Or should I leave out the additional stitch guidance, and allow the stitcher to make her own choice of style?
My instinct is to go with the latter as I don’t like to be dictatorial, nor do I want to encourage stitchers to be sheep, capable only of replication and not original thought. The tagline to my business name, TangleCrafts, is ‘Explore, experiment, enjoy!’ because that is exactly what I want people to do. We are talking about creative people – those people who, in their leisure time, simply want to create. Of course I shouldn’t talk down to them.
The quandary lies in the fact that many people see a design and buy a kit because they DO want to replicate it exactly. If I have left the design unguided, then I have given the stitcher the choice of whether they wish to replicate or innovate. But I have hereby made the assumption that they already have the relevant knowledge in order to make that informed decision. Given an unguided design, it is possible they will neither know how to translate it into the cover design they have seen, nor how to put their own stamp on it.
So then I feel obliged to include the guidance, which is probably what you think I should have thought all along. This then leaves me with a choice of exactly what guidance to inlude:
1. ONLY chart with guidance on how to replicate the cover design.
2. Chart with replication guidance PLUS a chart for the same design that is open to individual interpretation.
3. Chart with replication guidance PLUS an open interpretation chart PLUS guidance in potential different ways to interpret the design.
Perhaps I am overthinking this – it is something I do. But I think it’s an important decision to make, because the information I include within a kit sends a message to the person who buys it. Having been pondering this whole thing lately, I am more or less decided. My kits will include information to the level of point 2 above. I wouldn’t be happy only providing the information of how to replicate the design, nor would I think I had done my job as a designer if I hadn’t told them how to.
Take look at the ‘Tiffany Acorns’ photo I have added below. My model stitcher, Shari, followed the guidance I provided to the letter, when she stitched this kit. Notice how the acorn pattern is echoed within itself, emphasising ts curved contours. Imagine how different this design would look if it had been stitched from left to right, right to left, leaving the effect of horizontal stripes. By no means am I saying ‘my way of stitching is better’; simply that the method of stitching makes a difference to the overall appearance, and in design terms, this must be taken into account.
But rather than overload my kits with excess information – because this is an issue that is relevant to more than one of my designs, but individually, they are only small – I think I am going to produce a separate booklet. This would in essence be a beginner’s guide to cross stitching with overdyed threads, but would include some ideas for moving on a step for those stitchers already familiar with the techniques. It would also include a selection of sample patterns to practise what it preached! I could then market the booklet alongside the relevant kits, giving the individual stitchers the choice of whether they think they need the extra information or not. For me, I think this is an ideal compromise!
I have ideas for various stitch techniques that would give basic information on ‘how-to’ and then progress to next-step development – basically, ideas to encourage and inspire stitchers to think creatively, rather than to be limited by charts and instructions. Amongst other things, I’m thinking about freeform and 4-way bargello, and graduated/shaded blackwork. Perhaps once all the individual thought-booklets have been produced, I could look at trying to get them published, but bound as one entire book – ‘Stitching Outside of the Box’. What do you think?
I think counted thread embroidery can get a bit of bad press from the ‘arty’ embroidery community, but really, it can be every bit as creative. We stitchers are creative people, let’s celebrate that!
Not too long ago (just a few weeks, in fact), I was sitting on my sofa and contemplating a ball of wool. As you do. Well, it was Noro wool (Kureyon), and the colours are beautiful. I bought it because I was using it for some small-scale bagweaving projects, but as needlework has come back to the fore for me lately, as I was looking at it, I started to wonder why it couldn’t be used for needlepoint.
I asked around, but couldn’t find anyone who had tried it (not with Noro, at least), or could offer any practical advice re. canvas gauge for different wool types. A couple of negative replies just said no: the fibers of the wool would not stand the abrasion of the canvas, or no: the inconsistent thickness of the wool would prevent even coverage. Having already decided I wanted to try it, that wasn’t sufficient to stop me. So after thinking about it awhile, I decided to see what would happen.
Guess what? It works! Okay, you have to use shorter lengths of yarn, because it will fray and break with repeated friction against the canvas. For the same reason, longer stitches (eg long stitch, satin stitch) are more successful than short or layered ones, which just fluff up – of course, you could always invent a design which embraces this feature, and then it is no longer a drawback.
I actually used Noro Silk Garden, in the end, just because the colours were better suited to the design I had envisioned. Kureyon is a similar weight yarn, though, and should work just as well. I stitched onto 11ct canvas because it was what I had. Luckily, I would say this is about right. A higher gauge would definitely crowd the stitches. The satin stitch gave very even coverage on 11ct. A lower gauge canvas would probably also work, and potentially give greater flexibility in stitch variety. The yarn can withstand a little careful unpicking, but will fluff up and/or break with repeated unpicking.
I cut down the yarn from the ball into lengths of about 18″ each, and separated it into colour groups. I ended up with about 10 different colours (with some variety in each ‘colour’, due to the tweeded colour blending of the yarn). I didn’t use all of them in my project – in fact, I probably had about half a ball left of unused colours, which could be easily used in another small project.
I was really pleased with the results, and it was fun to work around the limitations of the quantities I had of each shade. I normally work on a much finer gauge canvas with ‘normal’ (overdyed) embroidery threads, so this was an interesting experiment for me. I can’t say I have been totally converted & will only ever do needlepoint with knitting yarn from now on; but at least now if I see a yarn in colours that inspire me, I don’t have to feel limited by what the label says it is for.
It is actually a very economical way of needlepointing, as one ball of Noro wool costs around $8, whereas individual skeins of overdyed needlepoint wool/floss cost up to $5 or $6 each. To buy full skeins of each different shade I needed to stitch this design ordinarily would have cost around $30, and I would have had lots of unused thread left over so this was a bargain. I will probably create a small series of needlepoint designs specifically for use with Noro wool, taking care to ensure the colour areas are not too large (there is nothing more frustrating than finding you do not have enough of a colour to complete a particular area).
I will also be re-charting the design for ‘regular’ needlepoint, using overdyed floss on 18ct or 24ct canvas. The limitations imposed by the quantities available of each colour meant that I could not take the design quite as far as I would have wished. The re-charted pattern has an additional border around the outer edge.
A predominantly self-taught stitcher, I have recently decided to venture out into the world to market my own counted thread designs. I’ve been designing for 6 years, & have more patterns & ideas than time in which to stitch them (or in some cases, chart them). Luckily, I have managed to build a little team of model stitchers who are helping me make some headway. I can’t – of course – kit a design until I have a photo of the finished stitched pieces to show on the packaging, so this is an essential part of the process. It also helps me gauge the quantities of thread & fabric to include in kits, find out if instructions need clarifying (something that’s harder to do if I stitch my own models), and in some cases, see things I want to change in the pattern itself. It’s a great learning curve!
I do a lot less stitching myself than I used to, but I really enjoy the process of the designing, & stitch small samples as I go along, just to make sure things work. I have lots of ideas I haven’t had chance to try out, yet, but with my stitchers’ help, that mythical day when I will have time to get around to everything is hopefully getting slightly closer. At the moment, my time is spent mostly fine-tuning existing charts, typing up instructions, & perfecting the layout of the chart/kit packaging. I enjoy designing the packaging almost as much as the patterns themselves – just another aesthetic aspect of the job, I guess.
Of course, the problem with spending a lot of time charting, means that I ALWAYS get sidetracked & see how a spin-off pattern could work, or it will kick-start another idea entirely. It’s fruitful in one way, but not necessarily productive in terms of actually getting done what I intended to! But I have limited time for all this work, so I do have to be strict with myself, & prioritise things I would otherwise leave until later. The ideas & planning notebook is ever-expanding…
There are related projects such as dyeing my own threads & colouring my own canvases which are on the really-need-to-get-done list, too. The charting & kitting has to take priority; but being able to supply my own hand-dyed threads would be a great addition – & I may even have to get some charts re-stitched using the, depending on how successful they turn out to be. And canvas colouring, although not essential to the current wave of model stitching, will again play a large part in ideas I have for the future.
Why can’t I do everything at once? I’m sure if I just had a few more hands, & a few more hours in every day, life would be so much easier!