Handmade wedding

Bethwyn and Steven just married 

When my dear friend and 'Frugal with the Bruegel' collaborator, Bethwyn, got married last weekend to her sweetheart Steven, it was a completely unpretentious affair. Not small, not plain, but a charming expression of her creativity and that of her many creative friends.  Some of my own contributions surprised me- many of the things I've made and given to Bethwyn since we became friends featured in the wedding, giving me a little frisson of pleasure every time I noticed another one.

Handmade paper garland

My wedding gift to the couple was a book I made a few years ago for the poem I wrote called Do the Dishes.I loaned my bunting which hung alongside the bunting shared by at least two other friends. The many metres of handmade bunting (each maker's character making the different strands distinctive)  first decorated the trees shading the ceremony, then appeared again at the hall for the reception.

Handmade lace garter

My two main (intentional) contributions to the wedding were worn by Bethwyn.  I spent many months crocheting the lace for a garter, then stitched it onto a vintage velvet ribbon. The lace pattern is one I invented called Denniston Lace after a white frothy plant I admired on my visit to Denniston Plateau last year. Making lace is really hard on my eyes and this garter may sadly be the last lace I make. I love to do it, I love the idea of it, but I'm not willing to sacrifice such an essential sense for it!

Bethwyn trying on the garter on the morning of the wedding, with freshly henna'd hands

As it comes off the hook, the lace is naturally scrunched up on itself and doesn't look much until it is starched and blocked.  I worked though a few iterations to get the starch right for wearing against skin.

Blocking Denniston Lace

My go-to home made starch recipe is designed to stiffen hand made lace for exhibition   The garter would have been as scratchy as bark to wear and I wanted the barefoot bride to feel completely comfortable in it.  It spent most of the wedding day hidden beneath her long dress, but every chance I got I made her lift her skirts to show me again!

Show me that garter again please

She also wore a garland in her hair, made by us together in our altered book collaboration.  I suggested using cut up books when she said she wasn't going to wear a veil and didn't want fresh flowers either.  Bethwyn kept saying she couldn't visualise how my proposal would turn out, but she trusted me enough to spend about 5 hours two weeks before the wedding working with me to make it.   She was so relieved when it turned out well. I wasn't completely sure how it would work but I also trusted my skills and imagination to try something new.

Planning the layout of the cutouts

Together we cut out images of leaves, flowers, birds and insects from two copies of An Edwardian Lady's Country Diary and attached them to florist wire to make a wreath.  A few coats of sealant made a very resiliant headpiece which complimented Bethwyn's cream and brown gown perfectly.

Half finished garland

I was just one of many friends and family  members with whom Bethwyn shared the pleasure of making the wedding.  So many weddings seem to be bland displays for which a couple starts their life together deeply in debt.  This one was a celebration of community and creativity as well as Bethwyn and Steven's love and committment to eachother.

The garland in action

Denniston Sampler

In the spirit of the crocheted coral reef I made a few years ago, I'm working on a vocabulary of stitches to represent the mosses, lichens and ferns of Denniston Plateuau. The fragile and unique ecosystem, which seems likely to be lost to opencast coal mining soon, is too delicate for yarn. Instead, I'm working with embroidery floss and stitches, and fine crocheted lace. 

I've been playing around with the stitches on a felt rock that I made for the purpose, a deliberately misshapen slab imitating Denniston's flakey sandstone.  Most of my mosses are pretty straight foward knots, French and Bullion as they are perfect for imitating this kind of low velvety moss.

I also played around with a long looped stitch, cut like a shag pile rug for a spikey moss like the one in the centre of this little clump.

This is the little clump that Robin looked at while we were on Denniston in June, and she said, can you make me this? And I said yes but it turned out a bit sparser than the real thing. Partly as I was impatient to finish it for Robin's birthday (and then I missed it anyway) and partly because I've been distracted by the house and garden that I'm moving to in two weeks.



Also, my crocheted lace green ferns looked ridiculous on the felt rock so I'm using them for something else.  And I couldn't resist adding my own favourite bit of Denniston flora, this low white fluffy thing that I am not sure whether its a fern or a moss or a lichen. If you know, please tell me, I hate my ignorance.

Mysterious Denniston species 

My version of the Denniston white fluffy thing looks like this. It's crocheted lace in a stitch I invented (of course someone probably already invented it, but I was following my intuition rather than a pattern so I can't acknowledge anyone else's version).

Denniston lace on the rock

I made short lengths of the crocheted lace, then starched and pinned it to dry stiff, then ruffled it as I was stitching it to the felt rock base to get the clumpy effect of the original. I do think its a pretty lace stretched out and I might find some other use for this easy and attractive pattern which allows it to be seen better.  Perhaps a gift for a soon-to-be-bride that I know.

Denniston lace: starched and stretched.

Lace practice

This is one of the very first exercises I tried from Clark's Needle Lace, a nontraditional net (even before the snail). It was useful to attach it to paper and have that firm surface to work on while I was learning the basics. It was also useful to work with quite a coarse crochet cotton, and fun to play with colour a little. I'm pleased enough to have it pasted into my journal.  But I don't really like the look of that loose net stitch, which is a shame because it really is the easiest.

Right now I'm focused on expanding my repertoire of stitches for my next exercise in detatched lace.  I learn each new stitch attached to aida cloth, because the set up for making detatched lace is so time consuming and challenging. Once I'm confident enough to add them to the detatched project, that's where I'll do the hours of practice that it will take for me to develop enough skill to produce the quality I want for my work.  


It turns out the snail was a really good symbol to choose for learning to make lace.

Learning lace

My first complete detatched lace motif,  8cm wide (about 3 inches).
The net fillings are a sampler of different kinds of stitches.

I've been thinking about making lace for years: wanting to, wishing and yet always putting it off. I needed the incentive of a particular project to help me overcome feeling intimidated.  I can't tell you yet about the project but I'll tell you about the learning.

Crochet lace, which I thought was hard to learn...
 and then I started on needle lace and realised that crochet lace is a piece of cake

After gaining some competence with crochet lace I realised it wasn't suitable for the project I have in mind. What next?  Bobbin or pillow lace requires a serious committment to a lot of expensive kit (bobbins, bobbin winder, pillows and pins). It seemed easier (ha!) to start out with needle lace. Needle lace has a history at least as long and illustrious as bobbin lace but only requires a fine tapestry needle to get started.

So about three weeks ago I started teaching myself to make needle lace and now I have finally completed my first little piece of Venetian Point-style lace. I've been following this excellent tutorial online and practicing stitches from Needle Lace-Techniques and Inspiration by Jill Nordfors Clark and  Therese De Dillmont's famous The Complete Encyclopedia of Needlework.  


It is, without doubt, one of the most difficult things I've ever learned, certainly the most difficult textile technique in my wide repetoire.  I've been joking to friends that it's like learning brain surgery, (but thankfully no one can be killed by my poor technique).

Proof of how terrible my first lace really is.  My eyesight (and most people's) isn't good enough to notice most of these messy details even on close inspection, but macro photographs reveals every imperfection. 

Early on a single stitch would take me several minutes, and then be so bad that I unpicked it anyway. Every few stitches I had to stop, get up, and move around to release the tension in my body and mind before returning to the task. But then after some dozen or so hours over of sweating and swearing I imperceptibly crossed a line. Now I wasn't struggling over every individual stitch, but  instead was frustrated by trying to make them into a pattern. And then another dozen or so hours later, some of the patterns started to look better than a stoned spiderweb.

And eventually my little lace snail was finished in all its misshapen glory. My needle lace is lumpy, uneven and a little grubby, as you would expect for a first attempt.  I'm so proud, and yet so ready to start the next little piece so I can work on getting my tension consistent, changing threads smoothly (and keeping the work clean).  I can't wait to take these basic skills and develop a wider vocabulary of stitches and techniques.  And one day my cordonettes will flow and my nets will float.   
  

I'm a bit embarrassed to share these photos which reveal my beginners's clumsiness but I intend to eventually get good enough to make a  beautiful brain out of lace.