tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6880091614524243862023-11-16T08:05:46.230-08:00 pennejefford.blogspot.com Art, fabric and collage.Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-27534627351470789562021-06-12T22:48:00.002-07:002021-06-12T22:48:53.980-07:00 'EASTERN YELLOW ROBIN'<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnqwTCD6KB9QnFS_JUa7blSR58nyJTZOwo9v3fyORnx8DTzWNrgKYokM-JLETncmQ8mFj0zPgJjzmF8YZ39URmbqOc4UNZkmSGE5L-VgRb_d05A1OXrZS1jjlrG-tNlHc95FFyFLtRjM/s768/Yellow+robin+under+glass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="576" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnqwTCD6KB9QnFS_JUa7blSR58nyJTZOwo9v3fyORnx8DTzWNrgKYokM-JLETncmQ8mFj0zPgJjzmF8YZ39URmbqOc4UNZkmSGE5L-VgRb_d05A1OXrZS1jjlrG-tNlHc95FFyFLtRjM/w300-h400/Yellow+robin+under+glass.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> A pastel of a Eastern Yellow Robin. Slightly odd angle for photograph, however it is already framed and was hard to take the shot with the glass and not get a reflection. Painting taken from photographic image kindly supplied by Lesley Kiker from Victoia. Lesley does wonderful bird photos. This was my first ever bird pastel, done a few months back. I like my birds to be a painting not done like a photographic copy so soft pastels are perfect for painterly effects. <br /><p></p>Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-24376261691102972262021-06-12T22:36:00.000-07:002021-06-12T22:36:15.143-07:00 "SUPERB FAIRY WREN" <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzs4aUSTNqQDp8Ja3eo3ta3muRw-Qmq71P-5SLZllZNXme6RjMQ-we-S4JV_JXw3MmBVEWHsiu_z6PZWedBJE-1HWQ3XeGTacOo7J7C6ZoGGvHFx3ZdwW1WeXbIRFHdkgB-KbNx6c8OJ4/s550/imageedit_2_2586199197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="460" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzs4aUSTNqQDp8Ja3eo3ta3muRw-Qmq71P-5SLZllZNXme6RjMQ-we-S4JV_JXw3MmBVEWHsiu_z6PZWedBJE-1HWQ3XeGTacOo7J7C6ZoGGvHFx3ZdwW1WeXbIRFHdkgB-KbNx6c8OJ4/w335-h400/imageedit_2_2586199197.jpg" width="335" /></a></div><br /> Pastel of this beautiful small bird that lives in the Australian bush. From a photograph with the kind permission of Darryl Kirby. These are the sweetest birds and when I lived in the mountains we had a family who lived in our garden, a small brood of females with one male. The females are often referred to as Jenny Wrens. I always love to paint them and imagine myself back in my old garden while I do. image unframed is 10 x 10 inches. All my works are available for sale. <br /><p></p>Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-23392318438850520022021-06-11T20:45:00.000-07:002021-06-11T20:45:08.466-07:00 'BLUE WREN ' - pastel<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaqjzm_NzQsJ5zF_XCDjX8RI9ALWuko5_kX0kDVvofHCurSclgZkfXfCeg88tKmLPyl_MbhJ04d-RkUNXRA8BsUd7QrFWyYoJg_lHkv0SGtwUQSaDQtQcHT3XYQ0PNdmozoUH-ZciovE/s1600/BLUEWREN+KATIES+LESLEY+KIKER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaqjzm_NzQsJ5zF_XCDjX8RI9ALWuko5_kX0kDVvofHCurSclgZkfXfCeg88tKmLPyl_MbhJ04d-RkUNXRA8BsUd7QrFWyYoJg_lHkv0SGtwUQSaDQtQcHT3XYQ0PNdmozoUH-ZciovE/w400-h300/BLUEWREN+KATIES+LESLEY+KIKER.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>A small male Blue Wren in pastels I gifted to my stepson's partner, Katie. 10 x 10 inches. Image kindly supplied by Lesley Kiker from Victoria. Lesley is a wonderful bird photographer and I am honoured she let me use her image to create this painting from it , her photos are superb. <br /><p></p>Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-38893307765357808342021-06-11T20:33:00.004-07:002021-06-11T20:33:52.853-07:00PAINTING BIRDS - "KINGFISHER"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rH4jshJxfut8zNqy6MB5u2xcuy34y4QcaOCtWwTJX7Vu9d_QCvBRpbYpIcK7EyQoiV0jD7I2nftTRo_lSHDFUrFNUFo42b7NsSSrEV6dGFHX6jooFS-lDPH8INrQWA9yVcc83RKd52U/s768/KINGFISHR+BY+MANDA+LEE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="576" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rH4jshJxfut8zNqy6MB5u2xcuy34y4QcaOCtWwTJX7Vu9d_QCvBRpbYpIcK7EyQoiV0jD7I2nftTRo_lSHDFUrFNUFo42b7NsSSrEV6dGFHX6jooFS-lDPH8INrQWA9yVcc83RKd52U/w300-h400/KINGFISHR+BY+MANDA+LEE.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> I belong to a bird photo site on facebook and some time back asked if people would give me permission to paint from their photos. I had lots of lovely photos offered to me and I am most grateful for that. With covid around my going out and gathering material is severely limited as I have kidney disease. I love pastelling and having developed a severe reaction to paint am going to be working in birds for some time to come. This is a small Kingfisher I created in pastels from a photo by Manda Lee with thanks to her for her kindly allowing me to use her image for my painting. 10 x 10 inches. <br /><p></p>Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-15228854048516330012021-04-27T22:52:00.000-07:002021-04-27T22:52:58.396-07:00 TIME CIRCLES<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih653yjVLBEQtWkg4HLp16djq5v5GiSuqOIzR-L5Z9gzr7Fka0o0N0tWrh0_l520JNxBIBXAdWeovgS2TyieQXaXq52lNGNtKZfXGhyFOI4h5jcJiIpJPkm5r8FSYgEucUlLd21ccdc-Q/s1024/AAAAAAAAAAAAA+Time+Circles+quilt.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih653yjVLBEQtWkg4HLp16djq5v5GiSuqOIzR-L5Z9gzr7Fka0o0N0tWrh0_l520JNxBIBXAdWeovgS2TyieQXaXq52lNGNtKZfXGhyFOI4h5jcJiIpJPkm5r8FSYgEucUlLd21ccdc-Q/w320-h240/AAAAAAAAAAAAA+Time+Circles+quilt.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /> Rust or Iron has always been a part of my life since my early<span style="font-size: small;"> days as a potter. I no longer glaze pots and commit them to the fire for the iron oxides to coat them with colour. Time passing has always been a theme of my work since the nineties and it still speaks to me but in cloth now. We use and create with iron for its strength, dig it up raw from the earth and cast it into all manner of things. Gradually as time goes on the iron breaks down and rusts and returns to the earth from where it came. On cloth it leaves beautiful markings with additions of vinegar and salt. The serendipity of this is the same as a kiln opening, you do not know really what you finally get till all is revealed. Different weights of cloths give different markings, temperature and time of the year have an effect as well. Nature has its say on the final imprints on your piece. I created this quilt with circles of rust, time and nature moves in cycles and circles. I used onion skins for the lower half of the quilt for colour, boiling on the stove. Heat still plays a part in my work, the passing of time is still there in each piece, speaking quietly now, in a whisper, not a roar as it did when I was younger. </span><br /><p></p>Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-68995897621091129442021-03-09T13:07:00.000-08:002021-03-09T13:07:13.612-08:00BORDER RANGES<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOc6E7crJjUc0FI6Uqin3v4fkQYEiuAe1KXZKDsu6QWy0w_1EAMV_KutEgGQno9qykLKpvLAXI93HpcFQr_2XVm832hPiFys7mKMhyphenhyphenaRi_CzVP1i_zhaBh8xJHGAzcMcu81oq0qhRXHM/s768/border+ranges.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOc6E7crJjUc0FI6Uqin3v4fkQYEiuAe1KXZKDsu6QWy0w_1EAMV_KutEgGQno9qykLKpvLAXI93HpcFQr_2XVm832hPiFys7mKMhyphenhyphenaRi_CzVP1i_zhaBh8xJHGAzcMcu81oq0qhRXHM/s320/border+ranges.jpg" /></a></div>The border ranges and Lamington National Park are never far from my heart, having lived there over twenty years. Huge mountain ranges stretching as far as the eye can see, rainforests lush with life and greenery, skies that go on forever. When I die that is where I want my ashes to go, down where the wild eagles fly and the thunderstorms gather on hot afternoons to march their way north. It is something I do think about as my life is shortening now, I have been given my exit date approximately and life is about looking back and reliving in one's mind as one looks at going. I have been painting lately, loving it. This is a 24 x 24 inch canvas titled of course, "Border Ranges" and am doing a whole series on them, seeing myself back there as I do, loving the memories and the journey. <br />Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-32456034720272038832020-09-19T15:51:00.003-07:002020-09-19T15:53:32.659-07:00BAY PAINTING<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR8J446Vv7w5Zd8LWreARgjadY9T55vH1g-eMhxGbXgzPSDAN4cju1_VpvVS6D7FcWQ6y3TC1GrhHvjd62Hk4X_p9uSY7pmT5dZRky4J9SSNtATIDaCjIUQHu-IbM_748rUPv_u7UFcRM/s1600/IMG_20200729_122715.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR8J446Vv7w5Zd8LWreARgjadY9T55vH1g-eMhxGbXgzPSDAN4cju1_VpvVS6D7FcWQ6y3TC1GrhHvjd62Hk4X_p9uSY7pmT5dZRky4J9SSNtATIDaCjIUQHu-IbM_748rUPv_u7UFcRM/s320/IMG_20200729_122715.jpg" /></a></div>Memory from my life on Lamb Island, the bay was an integral part of our life and had many moods. Acrylic on Canvas. <br /><p></p>Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-42361452104764420522019-09-10T16:43:00.000-07:002019-09-10T16:43:10.634-07:00A RETURN TO OTHER MEDIUMS IN ART<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJfJCLbvfa9C84IJXTgIFjQeQLsnHvnHq2_dPk7WfrxEVrUmsOH0akIQdKyO2ip2EHgG_Qg2iymh9p5NeJBQVBVQSJlgOOc9OBOdzhc9yhB_tjSECnRkMDxNUe2hLRjOY07Rt0OpkJH4/s1600/DSC01086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJfJCLbvfa9C84IJXTgIFjQeQLsnHvnHq2_dPk7WfrxEVrUmsOH0akIQdKyO2ip2EHgG_Qg2iymh9p5NeJBQVBVQSJlgOOc9OBOdzhc9yhB_tjSECnRkMDxNUe2hLRjOY07Rt0OpkJH4/s400/DSC01086.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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I started my art journey as a potter, lots of mugs, jugs and casseroles, till I eventually made large gold art pieces. I stopped several years ago, painted for some time then into quilting. Lately I have been returning to painted work that echoes my time in the ceramics world. I enjoy working with lustres and gold leaf and textures. This piece is 24 inches x 36 inches, acrylic on canvas, yet to be titled. I will probably be only featuring paintings on my blog into the future, quilting is fading for me as a form of expression. Its an odd angle to photograph a work from however I wanted to show the light on the gilded areas. </div>
<span id="goog_2043047399"></span><span id="goog_2043047400"></span><br />Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-60760060982290581272019-04-21T21:24:00.002-07:002019-04-21T21:24:29.597-07:00MURRAY RIVER CLIFFS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw-58v9RZfAqRqsaf4cZuZFeOBDxC1LcJTcYYMoj_-xLhFt4I1SaKJg7G8vQAonJ8xLq8mPnixH-NdxgKhS5plL1a4kRytfNQPEtxgsTOZIYtKYaLcum1UdNYJTAT0SfnFIKphS0K4ZpE/s1600/DSC00944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw-58v9RZfAqRqsaf4cZuZFeOBDxC1LcJTcYYMoj_-xLhFt4I1SaKJg7G8vQAonJ8xLq8mPnixH-NdxgKhS5plL1a4kRytfNQPEtxgsTOZIYtKYaLcum1UdNYJTAT0SfnFIKphS0K4ZpE/s320/DSC00944.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
I lived in South Australia for a time and used to love to drive along beside the mighty Murray River, the colours so Australian. The high sandstone cliffs in places towering over the river and rich bird life made it a very special part of Australia. The rusted and dyed fabrics in this piece are reminiscent of the Murray and that time in my life. Picnics along the river banks with my children and then the long drive back to the Adelaide Hills where we lived dot my memories. Size about 5 ft eight inches long. I still have to hand turn the bottom of the quilt but that is for another day. <br />Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-35769122609844666592019-04-17T12:35:00.001-07:002019-04-17T12:35:55.086-07:00FARM MEMORIES<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgUofO6q22ezqnGN5ENEb9RMqCcMQPOPlQsT1xv8_CPXfG9hs3fXyeSskN5qRudYbi_wGz7CnWdJfvZNPtJkn6bEDpaA_GphThF_NYpF3mPkGR-f7WFyQAIFpJAFDSoGbZwEH9OW1jg4/s1600/DSC00941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgUofO6q22ezqnGN5ENEb9RMqCcMQPOPlQsT1xv8_CPXfG9hs3fXyeSskN5qRudYbi_wGz7CnWdJfvZNPtJkn6bEDpaA_GphThF_NYpF3mPkGR-f7WFyQAIFpJAFDSoGbZwEH9OW1jg4/s320/DSC00941.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I lived on my grandfather's sheep property, "Wayford" while very young. He and my grandmother had twelve children and raised them near Armidale in New South Wales. A beautiful home with a long driveway of pines, gardens, tennis court and down the rear was a shearing shed. I used to visit it and was fascinated with the slats in the floor and how the light shone through them and the smell of the sheep wool. Along the road it sat on were several properties all belonging to family members including my great grandfather's home named "Blink Bonney' . As a child it gave one a sense of family and grounding and with a huge family came many cousins, around 24 of them by memory. Quilts 29 x 27 rusted and commercial fabric, farm stencils. Machine and hand quilted. </div>
<br />Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-14117133077960971552019-03-27T14:15:00.000-07:002019-03-27T14:15:05.055-07:00NAILING IT.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQJPJuFaJAXYfzkL7hZAo611TCGF330UScUawgO1S5dJwP-Mks56B63Ck1Bu0qI2v25uTy5eVpddpfKxllzgOKLedCgOoiIzpRJLO4-2-lV71sudZFKr-0dTmlvzmn2pC97MjwPap-a0/s1600/DSC00926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQJPJuFaJAXYfzkL7hZAo611TCGF330UScUawgO1S5dJwP-Mks56B63Ck1Bu0qI2v25uTy5eVpddpfKxllzgOKLedCgOoiIzpRJLO4-2-lV71sudZFKr-0dTmlvzmn2pC97MjwPap-a0/s400/DSC00926.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I finishing quilts for my yearly showing in the local library. I like to do this showing because it is where I live and create. Somehow its important, to belong and have a sense of place and I hope my work reaches out to my local community who visit the library. I live in a suburb by the bay, cohesiveness of community via knowing everyone is impossible, its not like the country towns I have inhabited in my life's journey. It lacks the easy going friendliness of a small town simply because of its size. <br />
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I made the top of this quilt using rusted nails and wire. Was not happy with it so never completed it, something seemed to be missing and yesterday I decided to add the hand dyed fabric and extra wire circle rusted piece on the bottom, loved it the moment I laid the green fabric down. Sometimes quilts take a very long time, we have an idea and create but we have to wait for the completion till something else presents and forms the whole. A bit like life really, we have to allow for time in the process and then the magic happens. <br />
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We have waited a long time this summer for rain and finally it has arrived in the last two weeks, including a downpour one night and our roof leaked big time in the family room. More rain is hovering today making it difficult to see to sew, more waiting till it clears away and I can finally bring this quilt to fruition. Meantime the grass has finally greened and the lemon trees have been saved by the wet weather. Patience in all things, quilting, waiting for rain, live in the day and accept what comes. <br />
<br />Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-84715777577653800902019-02-04T12:36:00.000-08:002019-02-04T12:36:14.769-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkI-cLX0WNsm0qr8CWB1JkNXaL2nqiZiOUYYUo8JctqsRFobF-6UYF1-QeMlVy4icXBrDcvAegUy0Un6c-lo6tiF76khwYzuWq1Y9vY64gBmbD0266Ie-8MFcOAaz4LIp_kfRd7k4jR3s/s1600/DSC00901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkI-cLX0WNsm0qr8CWB1JkNXaL2nqiZiOUYYUo8JctqsRFobF-6UYF1-QeMlVy4icXBrDcvAegUy0Un6c-lo6tiF76khwYzuWq1Y9vY64gBmbD0266Ie-8MFcOAaz4LIp_kfRd7k4jR3s/s320/DSC00901.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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'GATHERINGS'<br />
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An eco printed fern leaf, then rusted, some Banksia leaves and a background of quilted rusted fabric all formed in one way or another in my back yard. I do my rusting on my back pergola looking over the garden full of large ferns so I like to gather what grows around me in my own suburban back yard and turn it into textile art. 12 x 12 inches and will be framed under glass. <br />
Beauty of the everyday is becoming my mantra. <br />
<br />Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-91873342658459651322019-01-28T12:13:00.001-08:002019-01-28T12:13:12.680-08:00COMBINING RUSTED FABRIC AND ECO PRINTING<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is a small piece 12 x 12 inches and will be framed under glass. A piece of my very cheap fabric I purchase locally but it rusts like no other fabric in its take up of the rusted object images I use on it. I think I used an old BBQ plate on this initially, soaked the fabric in vinegar, salted then placed in a plastic wrap with the rusted plate. I left it for twenty four hours. The striped piece reminds me of old mattress ticking that was on all the mattresses when I was a child. <br />
I eco printed watercolour paper with gum leaves, soaked them in vinegar, placed the paper and leaves between bathroom tiles and tied them and then steamed them in a steel pot with rusty bits in the water and left it on the stove cooking for about two hours. Then treated the paper with matte gel medium and sewed it to the already quilted fabric piece. A little of white gesso on a roller and rolled it over some of the stitching. <br />
I am not a purist and am happy with whatever result I receive from the stove and rust Gods. It all comes together somehow, serendipity is my way. <br />
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<br />Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-25477510998274912432017-06-09T16:00:00.001-07:002017-06-09T16:00:21.427-07:00SATURDAY SEWINGSaturday morning is always 'mine' in the house. The golfer departs early and the morning stretches in front of me with time to quietly create, silence, time to think and dream. Winter is here now and rain later today will see the fire lit tonight to curl fingers of warmth through the house. We have short winters here and there are few fireplaces in my neighbourhood except perhaps the one next door. There is something really lovely about the smell of woodsmoke permeating the air. The cats of course adore the chance to curl up in front of the fire place. <br />
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My mother has passed away now. Little momentos from her house now in mine, the photos she kept on her sideboard, nic nacs, little statues of cats and some of her paintings. I feel like she is living here now, its just that I cannot talk to her any more which is very sad. I always rang her on a Saturday morning, she would be doing the washing and sometimes did not take too kindly to me upsetting her little routine.<br />
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More rusted fabric under the Pfaff today, she is the only machine who will sew the quarter inch lines I love to use on my quilts. I wrapped more fabric earlier in the day with rusted pieces to see what happens, its always a surprise. I love that part about rusting, waiting to see the metal pieces leave their marks, it is like time marking a landscape to me, pitting it, staining it. The machine carves lines into the fabric, dimension, time passing.</div>
Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-20057221578540039982017-04-10T15:22:00.000-07:002017-04-10T15:22:27.779-07:00FROM THE SHEARING SHED<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My mother is leaving, she has terminal cancer. The saddest part is you suddenly realise that your connection to your distant childhood past is going with her. Who will you talk to about stories from so long ago. The night she gathered up the autumn oak leaves from the road in the car headlights, the air bitter and cold. They magically became a fancy dress piece titled "Autumn" for my school presentation evening. She has forgotten it now, I tried to tell her the other day it is one of my favourite childhood memories. <br />
I have been working with rusting fabrics and making wall quilts. My childhood was spent in the country around Armidale and I used to spend hours in my grandfather's wool shed, I can still see the sunlight on the floor there. The rusted quilts are all created with my memory of shed walls and rusting tractors and tin rooves. <br />
So today I am putting this piece up in honour of my mum. She may have forgotten a lot now but I will always remember. She is leaving in the Autumn, how odd that I have a favourite memory from that time. <br />
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<br />Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-5630407835617485582016-05-04T14:32:00.000-07:002016-05-04T14:32:20.468-07:00YET ANOTHER DIRECTION<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Just when you think everything is in place life comes along and bowls you over again. A back injury and a hip bursa injury lagged on for six months. The pain drove me crazy and was depressing. I finally went for back xrays and the picture was not pretty. Twenty five years spent as a potter over a wheel had wrought a lot of damage on the base of my spine. It confirmed for me that it was not going to go away and this is to be my new normal. Getting older really sucks!<br />
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That is me in the snow in the photo. I was four years old, a bright future ahead. I would grow, marry several times, have three children and a career in the arts. All I felt in that photo back then was how cold it was standing in the snow outside Guyra that day, look at the feet! And the hands, they are bare. What was my mother thinking!<br />
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I have bowed to the inevitable and sold several of my machines. I cannot treadle them any more. Some wonderful people have bought them and I have loved meeting them. Its nice when you know something you have loved has gone to a good home. I met Jane from Kilcoy through one sale. Yesterday I gifted her Carna, the green machine and heaps of quilt books for her new hobby of sewing. Today the little Jones hand crank goes to a lovely young man buying a birthday present for his mother. I am of the opinion that if you can no longer use something let it go to someone who can. After all that is what life is about, acquiring experiences and then letting them go to move on to others.<br />
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I still have a couple of treadles left, just to give them a swing occasionally. You never know, miracles may happen and I may heal enough. Fingers crossed, just like those feet in that photo of she in the snow.Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-84019363373455859102015-12-19T01:11:00.000-08:002015-12-19T01:11:10.487-08:00MERRY CHRISTMAS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I only looked at the website for sewing lessons with my Janome 11000. Seeing a Pfaff for sale I got to dreaming of how I had always wanted one, it was a downline machine and affordable once I put my birthday money and the proceeds of a sewing machine sale together. However, and there is always a 'however' in the best laid plans, the saleswoman put this machine in front of me. It was instant love, the 9 mm fancy stitches, the automatic foot that rose at the end of a row and the large free arm that would fit the largest quilt. It was after this I realised this was a much better machine than I had seen online. My husband came to the rescue and put the rest of the money to the purchase and I proudly brought her home.<br />
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What a joy she is. A bit of Christmas joy. I find Christmas sad this year, the loss of my eldest son last year hangs heavy on my mind. I keep seeing Christmases past, the children all gathered for Christmas Eve dinner, faces shining and expectation written all over them. The smell of Ginger blooms in the vase wafting through the house, heavy with their beautiful perfume. Then again, maybe that is what Christmas is all about, to remember with joy through the pain, for those memories belong to me till I am gone. I will always smell ginger flowers at Christmas even though the flowers have long since faded and I will always hear childish laughter ringing down through the years. Merry Christmas, may it bring everyone love, laughter and joy and make precious memories that you can hold forever.Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-90924777469857480572015-11-29T19:23:00.002-08:002015-11-29T19:23:30.110-08:00THE GATHERING STORM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is the storm season in Brisbane at the moment. Yesterday was awful, the storms gathered out west of Warwick and cut a swathe through the region over the next few hours arriving at our suburb just on dark. Our Manx cat was found cowering under a small table and later moved behind the lounge for cover. The dog was brought inside as she too hates the lightening and thunder. Moggy Lucy rode out the storm on the inside of the window, watching the light show with great interest. Thankfully no hail for us last night. <br />
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We were awoken about 3.30 a.m. today with a storm and more lightening. I chose to finish quilting this small basket quilt on my 1910 Singer with Lotus decoration today. The colour somehow matches the moody air we have at this moment outside the house. The storms have already risen to the West of us and we are promised by the storm chaser online that today will be a cracker and we are right in the firing line. <br />
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An unusual visitor to the garden greeted us this morning. a White Headed Pigeon, normally a rain forest dweller he had perhaps been carried here by the storms. After breakfasting on our bird seed that we put out for the doves and lorikeets, he headed off again on his journey. The possum hide withstood the storm, riding high up in our huge gum. No Kookaburras came for breakfast, an ominous sign of bad weather to come.<br />
<br />Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-68126700368964174392014-12-02T12:49:00.000-08:002014-12-02T12:49:32.698-08:00SUNSET INSPIRATION<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I working on a sunset strip pieced quilt at the moment. In my stash of photos are many sunsets taken over the years as I use them in my pastel paintings. I caught a glimpse of the sunset last night in the front window glass and grabbed the camera and rushed out to capture it. Sometimes we miss the things that are happening right outside our own door. Last night's sunset was a gift. Now to work out whether to make a strip pieced quilt or a pastel painting from it. Both would be interesting to explore. Today is my birthday. What a beautiful gift this sunset was and when I loaded the image from the camera this morning I was most grateful I had captured one small moment in time outside my door. Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-37021352658390363352013-10-13T14:51:00.000-07:002013-10-13T14:51:43.038-07:00THE QUILTER'S CAT
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I am having trouble uploading photos this morning, so thinking it was my new camera I selected a photo from my old camera. Introducing my constant companion, he who selects all patterns, sleep tests all quilts and generally runs my life, my Manx cat Raku. Now he may not be a treadle but he knows all about them. His favourite thing that his mummy brings home are brown paper shopping bags from the quilt shop. He just looooves them. He delights it hiding in them, a feat that is becoming harder as he gets older and more rotund. Mostly he now sits on them because he simply has outgrown them. A Manx cat is like no other. I am actually referred to amongst the various grandchildren as the "Nanny with the crazy cat" because Raku delights in bailing them up when they visit and hissing at them. He gets away with it and they scream in fear but the silliest is to see my huge step son who will back away from him and he is in excess of of six foot and a gym junkie. My, my, Raku - his meow is much worse than his bite and he has them all completely fooled.Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-69121008010991517452013-10-13T13:44:00.001-07:002013-10-13T13:44:33.574-07:00Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-75489599899955066272013-10-13T13:27:00.000-07:002013-10-13T13:27:16.131-07:00CHANGES Yesterday saw me moving all the treadles to new positions in the house. I should really say saw my husband moving them, I just gave the instructions and he did the heavy lifting. My hero! The machines had become suppositories for all sorts of adornments they were never meant to carry, like dolls I rescued from the Blind Op Shop, glass baubles, paintings and the list of dust collectors goes on and on. I dropped the 319K into a treadle base and now I have myself a real fancy treadle that does real fancy stitches. She is heavier to treadle than my other gals so I would imagine that is because of her heavy gearing mechanism. So now I can treadle zig zag to my heart's content. I can do embroidery stitches and intergrate them into my crazy patchwork. Speaking of which, I had given my cousin a quilt for a kind act he did for me some time ago. Imagine my surprise when he told me he had entered it in a country show in NSW and it had won a "Highly Commended". I was delighted and he made my day. I have never entered any of my quilts in anything so he actually did me a favour and I love him for it. Thankyou Cousin Robert. So today's photo is of the 319K in her new base and may she make many crazy quilts! Well, three tries to upload the photo to no avail, so post now and photo later today when I work out why I am having troubles with adding the pic.Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-23271463496195304152012-11-06T01:47:00.002-08:002012-11-06T01:47:59.591-08:00ELECTRIC MACHINE BLUESI spent today using an embroidery machine. I felt at the end like it had been a day of 'work' not creativity. I ended up tired and cranky and quite over the machine. Tomorrow will be spent on a treadle for sure so I can catch up with myself from where I got out of bed this morning. More tomorrow!Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-60068311487038397152012-11-02T16:12:00.001-07:002012-11-02T16:22:16.218-07:00GEMMA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A beautiful machine to use and named in honour of our smallest grandie, Gemma. I purchased her some time ago, a Singer 201K, 1952. The cabinet she sat in was awkward to sew with and ended up injuring the bursa in my left leg where it was jammed up against the cabinet edge while I was sewing. Now you know why I have not added anything to the blog for the last few weeks. My dear sewing friend, Margaret, who lives down the lane, purchased one last weekend and it had the open cabinet, similar to the ones produced in the twenties, the type with the six small side drawers, only hers had one each side, if all that makes sense. I had been de sewing machining, meaning, making room by discarding some of my collection. I asked Margaret if she would like one and within a day her husband had purchased her a 201K as well. She is now a very proud treadler. This prompted me to remove my 201K head and put it into a 1920's cabinet for more leg room. As for the little grandie mine is named after, well she is a sweetie, but she does have a bit of grunt, just like the sewing machine. Lots of things have been happening since I last wrote and the biggest of all was my youngest son took a wife. Since he turns forty next month, I think it was high time too! The lovebirds are off on their honeymoon in foreign lands and we await a visit in the festive season to meet our new d in law. So Gene and Donna, congratulations! Maybe I might name another sewing machine after Donna, you never know. Oh, and Margaret's machine, well it is made the same year as mine and in the same place, Clydebank, Scotland. We have decided they are sisters. How extraordinary that they travelled across the sea and ended up fifty odd years later owned by two friends who lived a laneway away from each other. I love stories and I love the story of these two old ladies, the machines I mean.Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688009161452424386.post-90941570699236716392012-09-06T20:32:00.001-07:002012-09-06T20:32:47.715-07:00CARNA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have not posted lately, a winter flu that hung on for weeks followed by another bout of health probs, has seen me glued to the couch instead of the sewing machine. Finally, I am on the mend again. Spring has arrived and winter departed till next year. I am thankful to see the sunny days again and feel the sun's warmth, as the cold seemed to go on forever these past few months. No, we don't get snow, or even very cold temperatures compared to other places, but I missed the joy of blue skies and longer days.
"Carna" came into
my home three years ago. She is in mint condition, from the late fifties, early sixties. She has wonderful little silver gears on the top, and you combine them to make different fancy stitches and change her embroidery discs to make more. Her only drawback is that to change the bobbin you have to take your life into your hands and heave her upwards, hold her there, while you manouvre the bobbin out from underneath her. She weighs a ton. She also takes special short needles, though I do have an extra bobbin case with a hole cut in it to take the modern longer needles, for they hit the bobbin case without the hole.
She is named after my aunt I never knew. My father was one of twelve children, and Carna had died in her early twenties. Her brother had died ten days before, and she went to his funeral and caught the flu. No penicillan back then. How my grandparent's hearts must have grieved, how terrible to lose both just days apart.
Her photo always sat in my grandparents county home, "Wayford". I lived there as a child for four years from when I was born. Carna always looked so cool and detached, a remote figure, always a mystery and one always felt one should lowere one's voice when you were near the photo, or I did, anyway. I am not sure how my myriad of other cousins felt.
So when this beautiful machine came into my posession there were no if's or buts, I named her after that lovely remote figure in the oval photo frame. Of the twelve brothers and sisters, only two are left, my father and his sister Mickey. My Aunt Carna, however will always be young and beautiful, caught in time, never to grow old like the other siblings.
Tropical Treadleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10388521130901198948noreply@blogger.com0