Fabric Books

Hopefully a colour-packed post for you. Following on from the previous, here are some pics of some fabric books I made a few years ago. The first is entitled  INDIA, and was made in response to a call out by Cloth Paper Scissors magazine, for entries in a fabric book competition. I made this, posted it off to the States (it didn't win, of course!) and was chuffed to see a photo of it in a subsequent issue. Now truth to tell, you need a good pair of specs to spot it, just a small portion near a corner of the page. But it is there!

I used a variety of techniques, my own hand-dyed and other fabrics, hand and machine stitiching, stamping, foiling...you name it, it's in there, Kitchen Sink Style!

Hand-dyed silk tops...I THINK, maybe they're wool tops. Anyway, luscious colours, didn't need any more than a few stitches and the odd sequin.

The page I most enjoyed doing. My hand-dyed fabric, stamped with Indian place-names, seed-stitched, a few shreds of sari fabric pinned to the top corner....easy-peasy!

               A few detail shots, including, above, machine-wrapped cords and fabric beads.

      And in complete contrast, The White Album. Well what else was I going to call it, c'mon!

                                               Good old image transfer and stamping.

                                              Wrapped twigs - very Art Quilt!

                                                          Words of Whiteness

                                     Rather proud of my first attempt at Coptic binding.

These next pics are of the book I made to honour my maternal grandmother, Sophie Emily Pryce.

                                Silken cords and cover fabric - care of The Silk Route

I made the little pocket to contain some explanatory papers. I image transferred the rose image from a paper bag to the fabric.

I tea-dyed a very old tray-cloth which was disintegrating. I have a photo of me as a teenager looking remarkably like her in this shot.

                       I never met Great Uncle Frederick, he died long before I was born.

                                    I love this photograph, the original stands on my shelf.

I was barely six when she died, but I do remember her, making vegetable soup, served in bone china soup dishes, and later, walking along the prom at Tranmere, Birkenhead, with my dad pushing her in her wheelchair. For a working-class woman of her time, she was very fiesty, and had strong political opinions. She was an original Pennine Trespasser and chairwoman of her local co-operative society.

My father adored her.

                                             Words by Paul Simon. Says it all, really.