Crocheting in Color:

     Where does color inspiration come from? Where do you turn when you just can't seem to settle on color combinations? Lately, I've found most of my inspired choices from those juicy, rich batik fabrics that I find at quilt shows and shops. So the rich cobalt blues and deep purples of this quilt scrap led me to the crochet sample below, in which I was attempting to follow a pattern by the wonderful Lucy of Attic24

The vibrant hues of this little patchwork piece led to choosing similar colors for these granny squares and mandalas I was practicing with -- so yummy you'd love

to pick them up and munch on them!

 

So where does your

color inspiration come from?

Craving Color:

Oh, this craving for color is driving me wild! We are inundated with about 2 feet of snow and ice here in New England, with two more storms coming through later this week. 

Ugh. And ugh, again. 

Last weekend I was poking through my baskets of quilt fabrics -- way too many for my health, I think -- and nothing seemed to strike me. I have piles of UFOs (unfinished objects) and WIPs (works in progress), but have not put all these random pieces together into something whole and complete. 

Another round of 'ughs,' please! 

And then just as I was about to abandon my workroom/studio for an afternoon by the fireplace, I looked over at my painting area and spotted this book about the Scottish artist, Barbara Rae, which I've had on my bookshelves for several years.

  
Every time I open it, I am astounded at the range of colors, textures and patterns she creates through the monoprint and stenciling processes she utilizes in her work. If you ever have a chance to buy or borrow this book, do so! 

I stood for a few minutes flipping through the pages, half my mind still on the waiting fireplace upstairs, when I opened to the two pages displaying "Carrowteige-Yellow Field."

"Carrowteige - Yellow Field" by Barbara Rae

I stopped and sighed. The rich purples and blacks, the striations and that powerful vivid red/pink rectangle made my skin tingle [this image I found on Google does not do the work justice, sadly]. I carried the book back over to my sewing table still filled with scraps and started to sort through, pulling colors and patterns that I thought would evoke Rae's own. 

I found myself selecting colors I might not normally choose -- dark, brooding, heavy except for the vibrancy of the red/pink shape. So this is what I created in the next hour -- my humble ode to Barbara Rae's 'Carrowteige-Yellow Field.'

I think of this 8"x8" work as a color study for a future art quilt, possibly incorporating the other half of her work. But for now I plan to stitch this to a large piece of heavy watercolor paper and frame it.  I want to hang it in the living room by the fireplace so that I can rest my winter-weary eyes on it whenever I feel the need. Perhaps this will get me through February and March, nourishing my spirit? 

All I know is that just when I was about to give up and walk away, a vibrant piece of artwork shook me up and inspired me. 

A random moment, yet ever so welcome.

No rhyme or reason

Where does inspiration come from?  In a recent interview with Rachelle Blondel, Mollie Makes magazine asked Blondel this same question -- and her response was spot-on:

"In everything, every moment of every day. It could be a scrap of lace, a picture online or how the garden looks after a downpour . . . I think the key is to just keep looking at everything and stashing it away in your mind's eye and then drag it out when it's needed."

Well, I totally agree with Rachelle -- tidbits and even littler bits, snatches of something glimpsed for a moment, then gone . . . an image that one passes in the daily comings and goings, perhaps even a bit of a song or a smell that whisks us back in time . . .

I'm not a very organized quilter, a much more haphazard one.  I tend to do hand-stitching and quilting in waves, usually in the summer and especially when on vacation at the Cape.  Sometimes these bits and pieces can take a few years to come together into something that vaguely resembles a quilt or a wall-hanging.

Several years ago there was an article about Annie Williams, a British watercolor artist, in one of the art magazines I subscribed to.  Her works were simple yet complex, and the more I gazed at these paintings, the more I thought about how wonderful they would be if they were quilts -- and perhaps they were.  The article did mention that she used 'textiles' in her backgrounds. 

I researched Williams further and found that Katherine Tyrell, of Making a Mark, profiled Williams' process, and once again it was amazing how small her scale was and yet how Williams was able to capture the complexities of fiber and textiles, as well as the intricacies of the still life objects.

I fell in love with her combination of colors and calligraphic marks.  But on further consideration, it was also the simple willy-nilly randomness of these shapes and patterns that attracted me the most. 

So where does inspiration come from?

What we observe, 
soak in, 
digest, 
stash away 
and then re-interpret . . . a process of 
uncover,
discover . . . recover?

This is "No Rhyme or Reason," my random piecings that came together over the past few years. A bit of a mish-mosh but sometimes it's great to be able to wander across the fabric, stitching here, stitching there, seeing where you end up -- or better yet, where it leads you next . . .

No Rhyme or Reason