Floors, Ceilings and Unintentional Quilt Blocks at the Louvre

Recently I was at the Louvre, where I saw celebrities:

Ms. Lisa wasn't crooked - I was crooked, after fighting my way to the front of an aggressive backwards-facing selfie-snapping crowd.

Along with famous people and enthralling paintings (especially blue-and-gold ones), I took time to photograph some of the floors, which, for a French palace, were surprisingly American-quilty. Like this one, littered with blocks: 

A drain was well disguised. 

This floor wasn't interesting in the middle...

..but I was impressed by the improvisational edges.

In American quilting, this next design is called a Mariner's Compass....

I like the arrowhead triangles at the outer tips.

(I found this floor's soulmate in an ancient Egyptian jar, decorated with a similar mariner's compass on the lid, and square patches down the sides. )

Next, not a floor, but similar - a 16th Century Roman marble platter. Wouldn't this make an amazing quilt? (Apologies for the glare).

Whenever possible, I also tried to remember to look upwards. This gal had her own personal dome. 

The next young lady had enviably pert anatomy. What could it cost to paint my living room ceiling like this? 

Finally, in the competition for the most charming objet: The blue hippo in the last installment was a contender - but this Neoloithic Jordanian statue gazed at me poignantly, proving that one doesn't need pert or even conventional anatomy to be adorable.

In conclusion, always check out floors and ceilings! 

Lifted from the Louvre: My New Favorite Color Scheme

I was lucky enough to be a tourist in Paris a couple of weeks ago,  (where I visited fabric stores, flea markets and Notre Dame, days before the fire). Of course, one afternoon, DH and I went to the Louvre. 

We headed first to the 16th-19th century French painting galleries There I found myself unexpectedly fixated on a heavenly color combination:

That's Eustache Le Sueur's "St Bruno Being Carried Up to Heaven," painted circa 1650. And it's how I felt looking at it. Similarly,  Le Sueur's "Dream of St. Bruno."

And here's "Imaginary Landscape" by Pierre Patel:

I was seized by lapis and gold, plus variations. Here's an early 17th century painting by Francois Perrier, "Acis and Galatea Hiding from the Gaze of the Giant Polyphemus."

Closer:

Below, an equestrian portrait by Antoine Gros, early 18th century.  I am counting the gold in the frames as part of the hypnotic color scheme. 

Closer. His shapely knee, in golden yoga pants/tights, enchanted  me. (Not to mention that poor tiger saddle.)

And speaking of  horses, here's Charles LeBrun 17th century equestrian portrait of Pierre Segulier, 

Check out the elaborate gold fabric, contrasted with the cobalt/blue-grey tights. 

Below, Jean Auguste Dominic Ingres' Joan of Arc, dated 1854. 

Next, Ary Scheffer's 19th century "Temptation of Christ," 

My DH had a lively chat with these two amiable guys (they're Parisian city officials, painted by Philippe de Champaigne, circa 1650). I love the sky color against the gold frame, against a wall painted in a color similar to the sky.

The next confection, by 18th century artist Jean-Honore Fragonard was one of my absolute favorites. It's called "Rinaldo in the Gardens of Armida." The colors are brilliant, the frame is perfection.

It's impossible not to get lost at the Louvre, so at some point we found ourselves among Egyptian antiquities, where I was hailed by this Middle Kingdom (1900 BC) Egyptian ceramic hippopotamus. (Replicas are in the gift shop at the Louvre, or in New York, where her twin, William, is the unofficial mascot of the Metropolitan Museum.) 

Once we left the Louvre, I started seeing my new favorite colors  everywhere. Like at the Orsay Museum - this breathtaking painting by Georges Lacomb, circa 1893, called "Marine Bleu: Effet de Vagues".

Monet's 1880 'Villas at Bodhighera": 

Van Gogh's "Church at Auvers", 1890: 

Nowhere was it more spectacular than in the apse of the Sacre-Coeur Basilica in Montmartre: 

But I also found it in the streets, like this darling tray and teacup set in a shop window.

And this scene at the Theatre Edgar in Montparnasse.

And these two pieces of fabric, in Montmartre fabric stores:

(The piece above is Klimt-inspired. The piece below is macarons alternating with teddy bears in teacups. Yes, you saw them in a blog post a couple of weeks ago.)

And moving across continents, from the sublime to the ridiculous, even Fragonard might approve of the graphics in this arcade game that I photographed at a completely different time, in Ventura, California. 

What do you do when you get obsessed with a color combination and need to see more? Go to TinEye, at http://labs.tineye.com/multicolr/. Select the colors you want to include - it searches 20 million Creative Commons images to give you many more examples! A bath for the eyes!

[Note: I have no financial or other affiliation with any of the artists, organizations, or websites in this blog post!]

Spain II, or, How to Color Your Summer Vacation

Several weeks ago, I showed how the medieval rock walls in Spain inspired me to do some freemotion quilting.  I basically stared at my vacation photos, then sketched out the major lines. It took me 2-4 rounds (per photo) of practice sketching and stitching to get decent results.

All my pieces had batting on the back, so that the freemotion quilting created contours.  Once the outlining was done, I selectively colored some of the pieces. Then I zig-zagged them together.

 ...Added turquoise binding to cover the seams.

 Put felt on the back, and covered the edges with strips of felt (though in hindsight, I probably should have done a simple zigzag edging or traditional binding).

 Done!

I gave that one away, and wanted another one to keep. So once again, I stitched out some of my favorite photos.

...Which caused me to reflect on the fact that, no matter how many decades I've been freemotion quilting, I still need to practice with any particular image or motif immediately before the final run. Practicing the week before, or even the day before, only counts a little. You also really have to do it moments before. (Or at least, I do.)

For this round, I did more coloring.

 Here's what I have so far for quilt #2.

Here's a procedure for turning your vacation photos into a coloring book quilt:

1. Take lots of photos, so you have lots to choose from.
   
   
2. Pick favorites.
   
   
3. Sketch out the major lines of the photo on paper. Or print out your photos and trace the major lines onto fabric.
   
   
4. Strive to connect all the lines. The less you cut the thread, the better, because coloring can dislodge thread ends. At the very least, strive to begin and end at the edges of your piece (rather than the center).
   
   
5. Draw it again, and maybe a third time. Then stitch a practice round.
   
   
6. Choose a light-colored fabric with very dark thread (I used dark brown thread on an assortment of tan and gold fabrics). Back the front fabric with batting and (optional) a backing fabric. To minimize tension agony, use the same thread in the top and bottom. 
   
   
7. Go for it. Stitch out your design.
   
   
8. Gently color inside the stitched lines. You can use school supplies - Crayola crayons and markers work fine.* If you're an art supply snob use the good stuff - for these drawings I used Caran d'Ache Neocolor II water soluble crayons; Prismacolor colored pencils; and some low-quality no-name watercolor pencils which I don't recommend because the points kept breaking. UPDATE: I took a wonderful class from quilter Ana Buzzalino on coloring fabric with Derwent Inktense pencils (and fabric medium (or aloe) to make the color permanent). There are several tutorials now online for "coloring fabric with Inktense pencils," along with the classes Buzzalino teaches here.
   
   
9. If you used watercolor crayons or pencils, and are ready to start the bleeding, use a tiny brush and small amounts of water. Don't paint all the way up to your stitched lines, or the paint might bleed across the boundary.
   My two villa drawings below are colored in watercolor crayons, and I proceeded very, very cautiously in wetting the boundary areas with my teeny brush. 

Each finished portrait can turn into a separate wall-hanging. Or, zig zag them together, cover the seams with binding, add a backing and binding around the circumference. Have fun! Let me know how it goes!

* Find a tutorial on coloring fabric with crayons at: 
http://sew-whats-new.com/group/welovetoquilt/forum/topics/color-on-fabric-using-crayons
http://www.urbanthreads.com/tutorials.aspx?t=crayon+tinting

Rocks, Paper, Scenery: Freemotion Quilt a Spanish Vacation

We just returned from the trip of a lifetime, a reunion vacation with friends in rural Spain, north of  Barcelona, in the Costa Brava region. We saw, ate, and drank many beautiful things, but what I found most fascinating - as a quilter and an American - were the stones.

The medieval walls and streets proudly show their age with layers of rock-and-brick patchwork. Like this one...

...and this...

...and...

Here's the villa where we stayed: 

I thoroughly enjoyed the ten days of friends, wine, cheese and cappucino, but I could hardly wait to get home to try some rock-inspired freemotion quilting. After a joyful reunion with my sewing machine, I propped my laptop next to it, and looked at each photo while stitching:

Do not follow my example and place your coffee cup on your sewing table. It's asking for trouble.

For my first experiment, I used a trapezoidal piece of scrap muslin that happened to be lying around, with batting between two layers, and red thread. I picked seven favorite photos, and stitched them out serially...

One was this photo:

First try:

I also stitched or wrote the name and number of the photo on top of each image. 

Wow, that's awful! I did the next round in pen:

Third time in fabric, again: 

Gee, practice helps a LOT! The most challenging part was making the rocks uneven sizes. In all my years of FMQ, I have mostly focused on making the repeated designs - loops leaves, squares, whatever - consistent sizes. But that's not how rocks look in ancient Spanish structures! The same wall can contain everything from tiny misshapen blobs to long pencil-shaped pieces to plump rectangles. It was surprisingly difficult for me to vary the sizes irregularly, and distribute them asymmetrically.

Next, a metal vine window grating, surrounded by bricks, then rocks:

First draft, stitched...

...Second draft in ink...

This was a wonderful arch, with family strolling underneath:

Rocks are much easier to sketch than relatives, so I left the family out of my interpretations. First version:

Second:

Third, another fabric practice: 

Check out this awesome window (door?) frame that had been completely filled in.

First try, stitched:

Second, drawn:

(I skipped the hard part). Third, stitched again:

 Here are the pieces I have so far.

 And here's my best version (so far) of the villa, colored with watercolor pastel crayons (Caran d'ache Neocolor II).

Meanwhile, here are some more quilty sights (and sites) from Costa Brava. Our villa featured an affectionate burro named Rudolpha.

We bonded deeply, but unfortunately, she wouldn't fit into the overhead compartment on the airplane. Next, a café ceiling - OMG, those are flying geese!

Across from the cafe, a building with a graphic sun dial. I believe those dark brown metal cross stitches are holding the structure together (not religious icons). 

Next, an apartment building painted with rectangles that look a lot like...business envelopes with all the lower triangular flaps colored in!?

Is this a traditional Spanish symbol? Anyone?

Check out this rock mosaic pattern from the middle of a street: 

My friend Gary took an even better picture of it (Thanks, Gary!). See the clamshell motif?

In the next image, I love the people, and the wall behind them almost as much. Hmm, I could just print this photograph onto fabric, and follow the rock lines with freemotion quilting...

OK, you're sick of looking at rocks. There were also startling color schemes. Here's my glorious friend Maria, in front of an almost-as-glorious bougainvillea. 

Thank you, Maria and Dave, for organizing such a fantastic vacation!

A golden street corner: 

(Later, in the Dali Museum, I spotted a collage which echoed that corner's colors: 

.)

A yummy gazpacho, which I'd just about finished when a golden visitor wafted down into it.

Below, a wall that looks like an island map. The window shades are a deep forest green....

And speaking of green and blue....

Sorry, that was more rocks. Don't get me even started on the inspiration at the Salvador Dali museum. One of Dali's famous pieces, "50 Abstract Paintings," made in 1962, is totally quilt-ish: 

OK, not totally. It's hiding distorted images of a Bengal tiger and Lenin (the Russian dictator, not John the Beatle). The layout reminded me of a less edgy but no less enthralling 1970 quilt, "Falling Blocks", made by quilting engineer Ernest Haight of Nebraska.

(Read about Haight here. He has nothing to do with Spain.) And I'm also singling out the Dali painting below because it's embellished with...yes, I believe those are dangling ESPADRILLES. 

Bless you, Dali, for giving me permission to hang shoes from my quilts! How about flip-flops dangling from a beach-themed quilt?

Will you be quilting your summer vacation?