FIRST PANEL FLIP
Moving right along on my latest. I’m just past the point of flipping the frame over.
I’ve got all the black double running outlines for the main motif done. That’s not uncommon for Azemmour Cluster pieces, but is not a usual treatment for these larger ones. In the larger museum snippets they are usually outlined in the same color as the voided ground. In the later multicolor ones, anything goes. But it is more common for the smaller ones – especially the ones with birds and foliage or small urns. Since this is not intended to be a fully historically accurate piece, I feel free to take liberties. As for specific references for the pomegranate variants of the spider flower, I point you to these, both collected around the turn of the 20th century, and both formerly attributed as being Italian works of the 1600s.
Museum of Fine Arts Boston, Accession 11.2880, Newly attributed to Azemmour, 18th century.
https://collections.mfa.org/objects/68407/tent-stitch?ctx=4b923968-ddd5-426e-a76c-6afa55e9b949&idx=229
Cleveland Museum of Art, Accession 1929.843. Also newly reattributed and dated. Azemmour, 19th century
https://www.clevelandart.org/art/1929.843
A very similar motif also shows up on this late polychrome sampler.
Victoria and Albert Museum Accession T.35-1933 , Morocco, 19th century
https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O70740/sampler-unknown/
Flipping and Stitch Inversion
Why flip? Because I find it awkward to reach the entire area behind the frame for two-handed stitching. And the area of best access seems to be slightly different for each piece of work. But flipping long armed cross stitch (LACS) introduces a small variable that has to be dealt with. Inversion flips the direction of the interlace if the stitch is worked in the same way regardless of frame orientation. LACS is usually done in alternating rows, back and forth, to produce a plaited type appearance. While this is most evident when the thread offers better coverage than the sparse strand I am using, the effect is still there. I even take care to keep all rows across in the same left-right orientation, even if they are interrupted by a non-voided design element, so that when areas do meet up there isn’t a visible “seam” where two rows worked in the same direction abut.
Flipping however means that if I continue to work the same way, with the long arm originating along the top edge of the row and plunging back down at the bottom, slanted in the direction of travel, the spot where the voiding was laid down with the top of my stitching surface aligned at the top of my working area will be inverted compared to anything stitched after the flip. So to avoid those visible “seams” I have to mirror my stitching sequence along the vertical.
Now that I’m working with the side that was the bottom now at the top, my long arm stitches have to emerge at the bottom, proceed in the direction of travel, and re-enter the cloth at the top of my stitching line. Clear as mud? I thought so. This may help. the black arrows indicate direction of travel. And yes, the back side of this work presents mostly as vertical lines, with a bit of fudging at left and right, especially if a diagonal bit of non-voided area is encountered. And if that meet-up is not a diagonal, I do terminate my lines at each end with the equivalent of the missing plain old cross stitch leg, for a neater edge appearance.
If you can visualize it while the direction of crossings look different when seen this way, once they are stitched they are identical, with no visible interruption in texture between them.
What’s Next?
It’s time to start thinking about the next strip. This one is just above the basted center line of my available ground. I am going to omit the traditional top and bottom framing motifs, often seen sprouting from or in addition to a divider like the rope edge I stitched, opting instead to just do a set top and bottom of the whole piece.
Next will probably be a narrower band, not voided. I think as a whole-piece theme, I will alternate voiding with plain double running bands. I am thinking about doing it in another color. I have some medium indigo color Alori silk, and some of the same stuff in purple. I’m considering one or both but probably not together, nor in combo with the black. Not enough contrast between them, and neither is in quantity enough for voiding. Have to ponder more on this.
And just for fun, in the photo at the top you can see the whole frame set-up. My widest Millennium, grasped on the right (just the tips of the jaws in camera range, by the Lowery Large Frame Extender. My chatelaine is draped over it, where I stow it between sessions. You can see the old pillowcase I have pinned to the back of the work. That limits light transmission through the cloth, both from the television (upper left, various vintage Star Trek series are comforting accompaniments to stitching); and the library window (upper right) during daylight hours. I have a couple of magnets stacked in the upper corner of my margin, to hold my needle threader and keep the cut length of thread I’m drawing strands from handy.
Health update
Needle threader? For work on 28 count? And 28 count at all? Yup. Although my fave is 40+, especially around 50, right now my health complications include a modicum of double vision and close detail fatigue caused by mechanical pressure on the nerve that controls the eye movements needed for binocular focus. I can see well enough to stitch, read, or knit out to about fingertip length, but much beyond that diverges – to the point where driving a car is neither feasible nor safe. But because I anticipated a visual challenge and throttled back, I still have my Emotional Support Stitching to fall back on. And it is most welcome.
And I am happy to report that proton radiation therapy begins on Monday. We attack my cranial interloper aggressively, and I am optimistic for the outcome, and enduring the upcoming 40-odd days of treatment with minimal if any side effects. I did it last year and can do it again. Of course, I have other coping mechanisms. Knitting socks in waiting rooms, for example.
WORKING IT
And the latest piece continues to grow.
At this massive gauge – 28 threads per inch compared to my normal 40+, it’s mile a minute. All in all I am pleased. While the voiding is sparse (one strand of spun Au Ver a Soie’s Soie D’Alger – a thread economy measure), it is solid enough to be effective.
Another thread economy issue is in the black. The reeled long fiber Alori silk is divisible into four strands. Each of those strands is made up of three plies, not all of uniform thickness, although the thickness of each of the four officially divisible strands is very close. I am dividing each strand into a two ply, and a one ply, using the one ply doubled. No, this is not an advisable practice, and I would not suggest anyone else pursue it. But I am working from stash and want to eke out every inch possible.
As a result of my frugality there is a noticeable variation in the density of the black double running stitch lines. Some are heavier than others. To be fair, this is actually a look pretty common among museum artifacts, but in their it case was caused by the stitcher’s having to finger-spin each length of thread used from a clout of dyed, combed but unspun silk fiber. It’s especially evident on samplers worked by newer/younger stitches, where there is a marked difference in weights and even colors, since intermediate shades were achieved by marling together their parent hues. As with everything, practice helps. Some stitchers were more uniform in their thread thickness or color blending efforts than others. So I am doing my best, trying to mate or meld areas of similar weight so thick/thin dashes don’t occur in the same line of double-running.
In the helpful hacks department, note the old grey pillowcase pinned to the top edge of the work, and hanging down in back. That’s a light shade. I find that minimizing the ambient light shining through the work from windows, low lamps, and the television eases counting. In this case the pillowcase does double duty. This piece on my longest Millennium frame bars is too wide for the travel carrying case I made for on-frame projects. I suppose I could make another, but time does not stand still. I pop this one into that king size bed pillow slip, pin the top end closed, and it’s good to go.
Go we did. I packed up my upstairs Lowery stand (I keep a hex key in my stitching box for this very purpose), disassembling the thing into a heavy canvas tote bag, and bringing the frame, large frame extender, tool chatelaine, and pirate lunchbox of threads and other support materials/tools with us out to our place on Cape Cod. A welcome respite and restorative bayside sojourn. Nothing heals better than watching the tides march in and out.
As to health issues, I have bounced back from the dual biopsies in March – stamina and strength are back to where they were back in February. Findings are not universally great but neither are they dismal. My Danger Lentil might have been any number of tumor types that are far more dire than what was revealed. I do have a secondary chordoma site, at a location not previously documented for that very rare manifestation. But chordoma doesn’t eat brain. It eats bone and connective tissue, and responds well to radiation therapy. I meet with a rad oncology team soon to plan and embark on another round of proton treatments.
In the mean time I am in good spirits, optimistic and full of fight, along with the strength and stubbornness to win. And armed as I am with this easy to see project, plus working on Ensamplario Atlantio Volume 4, and a few pairs of socks to knit – equipped with ample amusements to keep that determination in high gear.
COMFORT FOOD FOR THE FINGERS
As folk following along here know, I like to keep busy. I need the comfort of fiddle-food for my fingers. Waiting is particularly annoying without it. Just before heading off for my second diagnostic procedure, I had started an experiment in Buratto, on a chance find bit of cloth that mimics the weave of that Renaissance era open mesh ground.
I am not pleased with it. I’m using some of the leftover Ciafonda faux silk I got in India. Nice enough thread, but not lofty enough for this. Even stacked, the double running stitch fill is too sparse. I supposed I could pick it all out and begin again, but right now I don’t have the patience to do that. I’m going to set this small wash-cloth size bit aside and get back to it later.
As you can tell from the bit of hospital tray shown, I had been working on this during my stay there. But I also brought knitting with me, and bargained with the various specialists installing the needed lines and monitors to leave my “bendy parts” clear, including inner elbows, wrists, backs of hands, and index finger tips. They were kind enough to work around all that. As a result, here’s last week’s finish. Yet another pair of socks cast on in pre-op, and finished during the ensuing week and a half of recuperation.
Since these are pretty much done on autopilot – toe up (Figure-8 toe), double wrap German short row heel, and something improvised on the ankle, such socks are “procrasti-knitting,” a fill-in project done while I contemplate other more involved efforts.
And I have arrived on the next one. It will eventually be fine-tuned to honor my Resident Male’s latest book-in-progress, but he’s at an early part of that journey. Themes and significant bits to be illustrated are still in the developmental phase. So I will do something of broader appeal, and add the book-specific bits as they become evident.
But what to do? And how to “future-proof” the project in case therapies affect short term acuity of vision? While such a thing is far from a probability, being a proposal manager has trained me to think in terms of identifying and managing possibilities, no matter how remote. Always.
Thank goodness for a deep stash. I vastly prefer stitching on finer count linens, and consider 40 to 70 threads per inch to be my sweet spot. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have linen of other counts squirreled away. I have unearthed a lovely piece of 28 count. Big as houses. Very easy to see. So I grabbed it, cut a healthy piece, hemmed the edges, basted my edge and center guidelines, and mounted it on my largest width Millennium scrolling frame.
And for thread – how about REAL silk? I adore the stuff. I have two large hanks of Au Ver a Soie’s Soie d’Alger in a lovely cranberry red just sitting there staring at me. And some Tied to History Alori Silk divisible in a couple of colors, also in a parking orbit. If I am going to indulge myself, why not?
The overall style of this one? I will take inspiration from the casual research I’ve done into the Azemmour Cluster. This is a well represented group of embroidered fragments that made their way into museums via wealthy donors who collected bits and bobs of what was sold to them as “Authentic Renaissance Embroidery” in the era of the European Grand Tour, roughly from the 1870s and ending around the time of Word War I. There are lots of snippets formerly labeled as being Greek, Italian, or Spanish that are now being reclassified to their true point and time of origin – Morocco in the late 1700s through 1900. I wrote about some of them in my Second Carolingian Modelbook, and in this 2018 blog post. And then I revisited the cluster in 2023, when a group of eye-popping multicolor pieces documenting concurrent usage of many of the style’s key design tropes was pointed out to me during the Zoom-based group meetings for participants in the Unstitched Coif Project. We had a lively discussion on the obvious Renaissance roots of some of those tropes, and why the museum attributions of so many of them are only now being updated.
I’ve stitched up a couple of the Azemmour group on previous pieces but I’ve never done a deep dive. Not sure which of them I will work with voided grounds, what colors or combos I will use, or what the rest of the piece will look like. But here’s the start. As I said – big as logs.
This armed against boredom and the as-yet-unknown, I march ahead.
String-Or-Nothing 