Twisted Textiles

This past Saturday (March 3rd) in Louisville Ky was Kentucky Crafted: The Market 2007.
We took some family and made it a party. Way too much to see in just one day!

I’ll briefly mention my favorite artist and good friend Jennifer Zingg, who creates fabulous art from all different types of gourds… really beautiful work.Definitely not the kind of stuff you’d hang outside on your porch as a birdhouse. (Be on the lookout soon for an entire post dedicated to her work.)

I was a bit worn out (read: “cranky”) after being on my feet all day, but I met several very inspiring artists, and gained renewed interest in teaching myself more about shibori techniques.

Laverne Zabielski, one of the exhibitors at the show, makes wearable art at her Monticello, Ky studio.

Walking through her booth exhibit, it’s hard not to reach out to each of the silky, vibrant fabrics. I spoke to her briefly about her process. I also made googley eyes at a simple yet stunning black gown on display, with its few accents of white, snake skin-like shibori.

In my favorite fashion book I found this particular example of where shibori had been used beautifully on a haute couture piece. The fabric on this gown is actually left a bit “scrunched up” so the effect would be a sort of bounciness and flexibility, emphasizing the lightweight quality of the silk.

Next, some new vocabulary words!

Itajime– a resist dyeing technique in which which cloth is folded into a bundle, held together by clamping with shaped pieces of wood (such as circles) and then dyed.

As with any shibori technique, the results can differ greatly, but I like this visual on the hems of this shirt, a piece by Angelina DeAntonis. The article about her wearables and amazing costumes can be found in Fiberarts Magazine.

Bomaki– I’ve heard it described as a technique which involves using a pole to wrap the scarf tightly, which is then bound with twine or string before applying the dyes. Although, I have seen other descriptions that involve sewing the fabric into a tube that fits the pole tightly, then scrunching it to create pleats. I have reason to believe that either description could qualify as fitting the definitions of bomaki…but when I give it a try, I will be using the second suggested technique.

The bomaki technique is one that I know I’ve seen at some of the textile sites that I visit. One of them is “Making Shibori Now” the blog of Karren K. Brito, who shares photographs of the work from her studio. I really love how these artists are using the fabric three-dimensionally… this is something that I might soon be interested in.

The blog of Shibori Girl is also a very visually rich and informative place to visit.

Preparing and concocting

I took my large pile of plain cotton fabric (scraps from tees and sweats, etc) and prepared them for dyeing. I cut them into manageable pieces and washed them with Synthrapol to get them ready for the colorful chemicals.

After running them through the dryer (no fabric softener, of course), I bound many of the pieces with minty dental floss, folding some like fans, pleating and knotting others.

Tying it all up

I was ready to apply the dye, and the shibori shindig had begun! After a quick chemistry lesson, I used several different ways of applying the dye, including:

• stuffing the fabric into canning jars and pouring in different colors on top,
• using a plastic tub to squirt more concentrated colors throughout some of the larger pieces,
• placing some of the twisted and bound pieces into ziplock bags and applying dyes with a turkey baster

Shibori-tastic!

I got to unveil the results after letting the bundles cure overnight. I must say, I don’t think I could ever tire of witnessing such transformations from plain to spectacular! For those of you who are regulars at this sort of thing: am I right or am I right?

I didn’t really have an expected end-result in mind, other than accomplishing several shades of ocean-blues and greens with a few “bubbles” in there from the bound dots. I trusted that the fabric would succeed in being patterned whichever way it wanted. It would be an extra bonus if it actually “followed my advice.” I’m squealing happy I didn’t drop the F-bomb on it.

As a side note, I’m really excited to be participating in the Paper Quilt Project for March, so I’ll be talking about that soon.

He does not have a name, but he is very handy.

If you have a plain, store-bought pincushion that rolls around all over the place, I highly suggest that you do this to hold your pins where you want them.

I’ve got an old ceramic frog, one of those old-timey sink sponge holders. I’ve simply stuck a store-bought pincushion in his mouth–voila!

Because he’s nice and heavy, I can set him beside my sewing machine and blindly stab the pins toward the cushion while I’m stitching away. He doesn’t move or flinch, and doesn’t roll off my desk. The neglected frog becomes helpful once again (and mighty adorable, I might add).

While considering how to learn about dyeing fabric for my art (Sorry Jo-Ann, but I’m beginning to get tired of the same old stuff!) I came across some *amazing* historical information about Japanese Kimono. Now, I know that human beings back in the good ol’ days used to be a lot more patient when creating great handmade works of art… but the level of persistence required for some of these fabric decorating techniques is near insane!

Even just *thinking* about the processes involved in Batik (removable wax-resist) makes me impatient. Consider one of the techniques the Japanese used, called shibori…the method of shaping fabric and binding it, clamping it, etc. to produce an area that will resist dye. This includes, but is not limited to, one example I found–a sort of tye-dying, which produces tiny, pixel-like patterns.

I’m talking itty-bitty, miniscule even. Not anything like your average, psychedelic high school science project patterns.

In this particular example, the artist wraps little sections of the white silk fabric with thread to prevent the dye from affecting those areas, much like the way modern hippies enjoy using rubber bands. As you can see in this photo of the procedure, there are about 10 little nubs of fabric spanning the width of this person’s thumb! The artist strategically plans out a design using the wrapped areas like staccato marks on the colored background. If you can imagine, each of those little nubs will turn out to be a tiny white circle. You can’t imagine such a thing? Well, here’s another photo,

showing the result of this technique (which I interpret as branches of a tree). An entire piece of cloth surfaced in this way is called kanoko shibori.

I am officially amazed and inspired. Just look at how straight all those rows of circles are…!

Speaking of Batik, I learned today that instead of wax, the Japanese also used a mixture of rice paste and soybeans to resist the dye. In Yuzen dyeing (named after its developer, Miyazaki Yuzen), the artists paint fine lines of the resist paste directly onto the fabric, even applying it by squeezing it out of a cone much like that of our modern pastry bag–you know, the kind that bakeries use to draw your name in frosting on your birthday cake?

For more information, view a few of the websites that I learned from:

Handbook for the appreciation of Japanese Traditional Crafts

Marla Mallett Textiles: Japanese Kimono Design Techniques

Traditional Crafts of Japan

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