Narrative Self

Part 2 – the design

Making design decisions for something as simple as a cushion cover sounds a bit pretentious, like I’m giving it far more weight than it deserves.  But if you put as much thought into something like this as you would a larger project it all adds to your visual library, which helps you to be more confident  (I prefer the word rigorous, but I don’t want to scare you off!) in the decisions you make.

Getting the measure of the motif - it's big!

The process has to start somewhere though and in this case it started with the size of the motif in the vintage fabric.  It’s pretty large (7″ square) and wouldn’t be very interesting if it was cut up any smaller.  So I already knew I could either make a very large cushion to make the square appear smaller, or I could make a smaller cushion with a large square – I plumped for the latter and decided on a 16″ cushion (a size I like).  The obvious thing to do would be to have the focal patch in the centre with everything else radiating round it like it was the sun at the centre of the universe. But I didn’t want to do that ‘cos that would be boring and obvious, I thought.  So the first thing I decided was that the patch would be offset, sort of floating top-left-ish would be good.  So I tried it out. And it was good.  I used a couple of strips of masking tape on my cutting map to help me visualise the overall square, then just moved the motif around within it until it felt right.  I do a lot of things by feel. I felt like using strips around the motif, bold colours and stripes. Strong was a word that kept coming to mind: is the balance of colour strong enough, is there anything that diminishes the overall strength?  Punchy, bold, that’s what I wanted and the best way of getting that was to make sure all the colours are about the same value.  They kind of resonate that way.  It’s looking good and when it gets to that stage I just want to get on with it, knowing I’ll probably make adjustments along the way.

Feeling the design

From the cutting mat to the sewing machine.  I don’t really like sewing machines.  Too much fiddling about for my liking, trying to get the bloody tension right, remembering to change the needle and oil the moving parts (no-one oils my moving parts!)…  I have this impatience, I like my tools to be simple and direct: a needle and thread, a paintbrush and paper; I want to be responsible for making that mark, that stitch.  I want to feel the needle go through the fabric and determine exactly where it comes out.  So this next stage is a means to an end: machining the strips together to get a ‘canvas’ that I can make my own, with my own hands.  I have a love hate relationship with my 25 year old Jones sewing machine.  I love it for what it is: robust, simple, practical (no more or less than what I need) and I hate it because it needs too much coaxing and nurturing. I’m not maternal at the best of times, let alone towards a machine.

Me and Mrs Jones on a mission.

So I go back and forth from the machine to the cutting mat, trimming, adding another strip here, losing one there, getting frustrated because the bobbin’s tangled up, getting excited because it’s coming together well.

A balanced pair

I take a closer look

Come on, come on, I want to stitch, to feel it, to really understand it.  At this point you may be thinking I’m losing the plot: it’s only a cushion cover.  But it’s not, it’s love.  It’s loving it for the sake of it, it’s loving it for the experience, it’s loving it because I can and because when it belongs to someone else they might have a sense of that too.

Ok, you can put me back in the straight jacket now.  Back soon.

love Stephie x