I had lots of fun on Sunday working with tones of rust and tarnish. I was going for moss greens, but could only control the KoolAid so much. These are my hand dyed wools, in some great greens, and two really weird looking reds. No matter how hard I tried, and how many times I over-dyed, I could not get rusty looking wool. Could that be because wool doesn't rust? Trust me. However, if you don't believe me, go ask a sheep. Dags, yes. Rust, no. Anyone care to comment as to what dags are? Come on, I dare you!
I took some of the dyed wool and made it into a fabric base, basically just stitched the heck out of it in a hoop with wash away stabilizer, which I then washed away. See, I can read instructions! The result of that was turned into a teeny tiny ATC (Artist's Trading Card, 2.5" x 3.5"). Never one to be easily satisfied, I went a little crazy with bits of amber. Pointless fun!
This was the final piece I made yesterday - "the rust rules". The odd looking sheen is vinyl coating - I coated my rusted fabric with iron on vinyl to protect it (and me) from the rust rubbing off. It also gives it a really neat look. There is a small cut-out in it too. It may need more work - I will look at it again tomorrow. And probably treat it to overkill.
Now the big question - what the heck to do with all of this stuff? DH suggested I start a collection area below the stairwell, in the den. The lighting is poor, but it is an easy place to add more pieces, or rearrange when the mood hits me. Maybe I should just put up a bulletin board, or some mesh, and pin or tie things up as I make them.
So my next challenge ought to be making something larger than 8" x 10" ... that isn't a traditional quilt. Maybe after the wedding quilt and my brother's quilt are done, I will go Big, Bold, Bright, and purely decorative. I love a lofty goal! Fat chance in hell. Even as a toddler I made little things - tiny drawings that my mother referred to as bumblebees. Apparently I've been practicing most of my life to make tiny little messes, only now they're with fibers and beads rather than crayons, strained peas, or my own poop. Ah, childhood. There are some parts of it I really don't miss.