Open Waters

It may be no surprise: I decided to throw away the pattern.

I felt uninspired by it and overwhelmed by it all at the same time.  I had to ask myself--do I have to commit to the puzzle of cutting out pieces and following those rules?  My old battle with rules surfaced.  Are rules guides?  Or confinements?

I decided, finally.  No pattern out there existed for the Wright Dress.  I've embarked out on the open waters of garment construction with no compass and no tangible map. 

I studied the Pettibone dress from the pictures of the lucky brides wearing it.  The bodice I have is a similar style.  I just need to sew in a skirt.  Find the Guipure lace for the neckline.  Sew in a sash.  Done.  Right?

Well, I'm on my way.  I cut out the skirt and several layers of lining.  I had to figure out the easiest way to gather the top, and I discovered a blog post about the ease of gathering with clear elastic, here.  I finally hunted down the stuff at JoAnn's.  It's magical stuff, and it worked perfectly.  You simply stretch it out across the top of the hem while sewing it in.  It created a perfect, even gather. I highly recommend it.

So, here's the next development.  I'm on my way.  And I'm very hopeful about what awaits on the horizon.

P.S. Check out this video.  I'm loving She and Him, a project by Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward.

Tucked Away

More dress updates are coming soon!  I'll be taking it home this weekend for Mother's Day to hopefully finish it up. I've documented all of the elements, and I promise to explain it all.

I've been thinking.  It's been hard to have a project that I've hidden from Jacob.  I usually seek his quiet opinions about paintings, "design", and photos--and I hadn't realized how much I need his input in my work.  We often disagree, which makes me defend things he usually shrugs his shoulders about.  I've learned I'm intentional about utilizing some of the things that his line of work has taught him to avoid.  I have to remind him that while all art is communicative, not all communication is art.  And some blurriness or illegible fonts are okay, when they're there on purpose.

Jacob helps me develop ideas like this.  He helps me know what I like, and be more confident within my work.  Maybe even more determined. So, it's been a battle to keep this project tucked away.  Literally.  I've often wanted to pull it out, and just talk through it with him.

Thankfully, though, I've been able to show it to several of my girlfriends.   All of the affirmation I needed came a few weeks ago, when I pulled it on, zipper not quite completely sewn in, and showed it to Becca.  And she cried. It was perfect.

I joked with her:  "Better than you expected?"

I've surprised even myself.

In the meantime,  I just have to share an exciting purchase.  Everyone, please behold the "wedding boots":

Yes, they're my first pair of cowboy boots.  And yes, they'll be getting me down the aisle tucked under a dress I made.  And maybe I'm learning that some of my favorite things in life stay tucked away for a while, at least until the perfect moment...    

Six-Month-Out Marks

Jake and I celebrated the six-month-out mark by sharing a great hike in the Wichitas with some of my closest girlfriends.  I really love the Wichita Mountains.  This area of Oklahoma is really unique...maybe because it doesn't quite seem to belong.  We loaded up the Vibe with snacks, blankets, and a change of clothes in case we found some great photo spots. 

Once inside the reserve, you can make out an old tower on a hill from the road.  We found a place to park and hiked up to this unexpected find.  It stands tall and lonely, made of the same round red stones that make up the mountains.  The tower was long ago welded shut, but Becca (who else?) found a way in--a small hole between boulders and the old metal door.

One by one, we found our own way of maneuvering in through the small space.  And what we found inside was just short of perfect.  A long, winding cement staircase led to the lookout point above, and old graffiti ornamented the walls.  Someone named Mike left his mark in 1961.

These are some of the pics we took.  Three cheers to Becca for some great shots...

Headpiece Detour

So, what's a great dress without a great headpiece?  (Because I'll have to make that too, right?)

While I definitely appreciate the traditional veil and what it symbolizes, I'm considering a few alternate options.  Here are a few ideas that I love...

Through a Needle's Eye

I'm learning a thing or two about sewing.  I'm becoming familiar with the repetition of the machinery, the relationship between the pedal and the pressure of my uneasy foot.  I'm learning the pattern of threading the needle, always the same: counter clockwise, behind the groove, down around the dial, up through the hook, behind the clasp, and finally through the eye and under the foot.  I like the formula of it, the equation for supplying the main ingredient to binding fabric together--a small, seemingly insignificant--line of thread.

Thread isn't the only important thing.  There's the needle.

During my second weekend of sewing the Wright dress, I broke the two needles in my serger.  That mishap eventually led to me breaking a 2mm screwdriver off inside the hole that releases the needles from the machine.  I know, nice.  I'm just now able to talk about it. 

So, finally, I'm becoming familiar with panic--the quiet, still kind.  But this panic has enhanced the development of a new sort of patience, as I just have to sit back, take a deep breath, and remember where I'm going.  I picture the dress, that moment.  And I remember the process of all creative endeavors--slow, sometimes all wrong, at times far from your ultimate vision.

The artist becomes a master when he learns the medium. I suppose everyone can picture a beautiful landscape, a portrait with light falling all around features.  But the artist recreates, makes these scenes tangible.  Acrylics, oils, and watercolors all have a life and presence, each distinct and separate. Paint brushes and palette knives are unfamiliar tools, atleast until you've spent late nights alone with them in an upstairs studio.

So, I'm very much a novice, but I'm learning this sewing business.  The machine and I are learning our dance, and I'm promising to stop stepping on so many toes.

P.S. This is a great song that has kept me company. Enjoy Brandi Carlile's "Have You Ever".

The Dress that Started It All...

So, here it is.  The dress of my dreams.  Dresses have actual names in worlds far separated from mine.  And this dress' name is Lucien.  It's by Claire Pettibone, and there were only seven made. 

This bride is my inspiration.  Seriously.  It's these warm sun-drenched photos that float around in my brain when I think about my wedding day.  Lucien comes from the Latin, meaning "light".  Ofcourse.  

 

And here it is on the runway...

Breakthough Weekend!

Major things happened this weekend.  There are a LOT of new developments with the Wright Dress.


The truth is, I think about this dress ALOT.  It keeps me up at night, I drift away to "seam" land at work, it's with me in the car at stoplights. Of all the art projects I had in school, none ever consumed me like this one. The two areas of preoccupation as of late have been the technique of gathering fabric at the waistline and how to solve the great bodice dilemma.  For the latter, I decided, yes, I'm going to "cheat" a bit.  Yet I'd prefer to call it ingenuity.


Friday I made the drive to Quail Springs  to...Forever 21 (my favorite!).  With some French rock band playing overhead, I started my usual systematic combing of the overloaded clothes racks--beginning at the front left of the store, zigzagging to the back and up again.  And this time, I set my eyes to the color white.


Near the back of the store, I found three shirts that were possibilities.  While standing near the wall, I even uttered a small prayer that God would give me the perfect material--a far shot, I know, but I've come to enjoy making those sorts of requests.  And, it just so happened, that I found it...

 The shirt is a little big through the bust, but I knew I could take it in.  And the interfacing fabric was almost the exact same type of knit as the fabric I had bought originally.  The color didn't match perfectly, but it was close. In fact, the contrast of the ivory fabric and the off white of the shirt might be nice.  The top is the strapless empire-waist I had envisioned, complete with a ruched midriff.


When I got home, I studied the make of the shirt intently.   I had to have a plan, because I was about to dismantle the thing.  Here is a pic of the inside.

I got to work taking out the seam that connected the midriff to the “skirt”.

And voila!  I had the perfect "pre-made" bodice to my dress.  No patterns, measuring, or seam allowances required.  Success!

So, here is my analogy:  

Once, I thought that love was something we would construct completely for ourselves from ideals.  Sure, I'm very aware of the standards of perfection that literature and film present to us, and for a long time, I sought to make my story conform to a movie-worthy plot.  My intent here is not to criticize human expression through these avenues; I believe very strongly in the human capacity to manifest meaning.  Perhaps what we wish it could have been is just as important as what it turned out to be, and the linear progression of time and life are strongly manifested in these human narratives.

But for making sense of life:  I've come to value embracing those details (large or seemingly small) that did not conform to the way we would have had it.  And maybe that is the heart of faith and the sister of optimism, this full integration of knowing that God is continually working ALL things together for our good.  And this time, I just happened find it hanging on a back rack at Forever 21.