Love the lace

I LOVE all the lace this season.

Who am I kidding? I love lace any season.

I've seen a lot of pretty cotton trimming on clothing lately, and I wanted some for myself. So I spent some time playing around with crochet thread.

 

I'm pretty pleased with it. I'm trying to think of a clever name for the design, and then I'll post the pattern. Any suggestions?

A Picture is worth...

 Ahem. I mean...

Date at the Distillery District

Yesterday evening, my indulgent boyfriend and I headed down to Toronto's Distillery District for the Artisans at the Distillery craft show. Once the largest distillery in the world, this area is now "Canada's largest pedestrian-only precinct for arts, culture and entertainment," according to their website's fact sheet (I can't resist reading historical backgrounds. The indulgent boyfriend knows this. He stands patiently while I read every sign and plaque we pass downtown).

 This photo is the property of the Distillery Historical District website. Imagine that space, and others like it, full of white tents, musicians, people and wares. The paradox of being a starving artist is that you can't afford to buy any of the work you want to support, but it was a treat just to look. Jewelery, recycled furniture, clothing, food... and a happy, wholesome atmosphere hovering over it all.

Best of all, there was a booth by Honeybea Designhive. I wish I were young enough to say that I want to be this designer when I grow up. I guess I'll have to settle for wanting to be her when I mature artistically. All of her bags and clothing items are made from reused textiles, and they are simultaneously earthy, edgy and gorgeous.

 
I can't find any pictures online of the adorable tops made from bed skirts that she was selling at the distillery, but I'm hoping they appear soon on her website, Facebook page or Etsy shop. I have a bed skirt-dress in the works, and she and I chatted briefly about the wonderful possibilities of those particular items. The lacy ones seem to be out of style in the bedding world right now, but for thrifty seamstress they are like gold.

All this talk of designing makes my fingers itch to pick up a needle. I think it's time to go see if I can measure up to my new hero.

Bunny for Grannie

When my Mom and I worked together to finish a patchwork quilt left by my great-grandmother when she died, we were awestruck by her thrift. I mean, we knew she was a saver of fabric. Having first managed her own household and marriage during the Great Depression, she was a saver of everything. But this irregular log cabin quilt drove the notion home like nothing else. There were some pieces so small they were almost entirely eaten up by their own seam allowances. We were inspired. From that day on, Mom and I swore that in honour of Grannie, we would save every single piece of fabric that was at least one inch square.

Of course, as much as we love making scrap quilts ourselves, it just doesn't fit the schedule sometimes. What to do with all the scraps? It finally occurred to me: why not patchwork animals? I used a stuffed dog pattern of Grannie's the first time, then started making up my own. To continue the theme of thrift and environmental responsibility, I stuff them using my fabric waste scraps - those that don't make the 1-inch cutoff.

I thought the animals would be a mere novelty at first, but these days I keep getting requests for baby gifts. Here is the latest addition to the patchwork family:

I'm still thinking about adding a tail.

One side is patchier than the other.

For scale:

I'm daydreaming about The Velveteen Rabbit.

This little guy will be in the shop within the next few days. If I can let him go ;)

First Day of Work

 

The mysterious location of my summer internship is now revealed: The Presbyterian Record, official magazine of the Presbyterian Church in Canada. I have officially been interviewed, assigned a computer, and promised lots of "work the rest of us don't want to do." One staff member assured me that the job carried "not much fame, not much fortune, but hopefully some experience."

See how I'm integrating quotations? I could be a journalist already.

Mundane assignments aside, I really am interested in this job. I used to be a sporadic contributor for the Record, back when I was young enough to be a novelty as a writer. I like the people who run it, and being so immersed in the Presbyterian community (5 years as a camp counsellor, student-minister sister, youth group and praise band leadership - you get the gist), I feel invested in the issues addressed by the church press. Besides, I'll learn a lot about working for a magazine, which is, I think, the point of most internships. I'm especially eager to learn how to pitch a proper story and how to conduct a proper interview. Those are rather important skills in journalism. I lack them.

In the tradition of so many first-day-of-school photos, my sister Bethany wanted to take a picture of me all dressed up for my first day of work today. This isn't quite the same as the cute, little girl in a new skirt and backpack, but just because I know my Mom is following, I'll add it in. This is for you, Mom: I'm all grown up and working in a big city office.

What, you expected the crisp grinning-and-waiting-for-the-school bus look? No. This is a writing job.

PS - This photo does not condone chewing on pens. Most of them contain Bisphenol A. Don't do it.

Online at last!

It isn't much, but it's a start. TwilightTree is now open for business on ArtFire. I'm having trouble with the link, but I'll post it as soon as it's functional. In the meantime you can go to www.artfire.com and look me up.

Within the next few days I will have sorted out my finances, and the first thing I will be doing after that is buying a camera, so I'll be able to post more items soon.

Best wishes to you all!


Here's that link:
TwilightTree Studio on Artfire

Title shot

This could be the introduction to a movie, or a sitcom: a small, silver truck drives south into Toronto, the back piled with boxes, bookshelves, and one incongruous dressmaking dummy. A blue tarp from Canadian Tire flaps over it all. Inside the cab, twisting to keep her knees away from the gearshift, is a wide-eyed country girl who is here to make it as a writer in the big city. The truck is heading to the apartment of her newlywed sister and brother-in-law, both student ministers. Cue the opening music and a sequence of images that promise much hilarity and character development.

Of course, the heroine of such a movie or show would not be living in an apartment quite as nice as this one, or have nearly as good a relationship with her sister. She could not have the support of a boyfriend already living in Toronto, because she must be available for seduction by her boss/coworker/neighbour/UPS guy (one of those. Not all of them. Though I wouldn't put it past some networks). And she certainly wouldn't have a miserable cold the day she moves in, because that would simply not be attractive or engaging for the audience.

Having written this, I can't seem to get the opening to David Copperfield out of my head: "Whether I am to be the hero of my own life..." Well, am I, Mr. Dickens? Maybe not until I kick this cold. For now, I sit in a fortress of tissue boxes and paperbacks, watching the sky clear and waiting for my head to do the same. Then I'll get down to the business of being a heroine.