It seems that the summer has slipped past me completely.  But while it may be true that the season’s almost over, I continue to think back on my June vacation in England and am so grateful to have had the luck to take a true holiday before July and August disappeared in a whirlwind of meetings, presentations, dog walks, classes, dinners, and sewing (about which I’ll report soon).

But back to holiday nostalgia. Using a short-stay flat in London as our home base, we explored southeast England in a series of day trips on foot and by train.  The varied landscapes and buildings all had vivid tales to tell, and I was so happy to have read Una McGovern’s book ahead of time because I could begin to understand and appreciate the skill and labor that went into creating each stone wall, thatched roof, and artfully arranged orchard we walked by.  We hiked across fields, through forests and villages, along marshy coasts, and among old, old oaks.  We saw oast houses, mosaic ruins left by the Romans, mysterious standing stones and prehistoric mounds, Elizabethan hunting lodges, and ingeniously constructed gates and stiles and hedges along the paths to allow people through but keep cows where they belong.  We also spent some reacquainting ourselves with London, wandering among its parks and along its canals.

In addition to the sites already mentioned above, here are some additional memorable elements of my summer vacation:

*The V&A’s quilt exhibition and its books (both the exhibition catalog and Patchwork for Beginners) that I brought home so that I can continue to be inspired, enlightened, and informed about all of the quilts’ techniques, stories, and connections.

*The many animals we spotted: coots, swans, a variety of deer, herons, cows, horses, sheep, dogs.

*Memorable meals in stunning spots, including a visit to Meantime at the Old Royal Naval College in Greenwich and a lovely dinner at The Wapping Project, an abandoned power station reinvented as a dining and arts space.

*And last but not least, London’s innovative ladies of publishing—specifically, the friendly and welcoming women of Selvedge Magazine (a fabulous periodical with fashion, art, craft, history, and more) andPersephone Books (purveyors of should-not-be-forgotten English authors’ works, packaged in elegant dove grey wrappers with carefully chosen endpapers that often recreate vintage textile patterns).  Both concerns maintain combined work/shop spaces in London, and in both spots busy staffers took time to welcome me and assist me with my purchases before returning to their other duties.  I love what they do, and I loved that I could visit them.

We couldn’t have created this trip without doing some research first.  All of the little volumes pictured here were useful, but the best sources for practical details as well as discoveries turned out to be Walks in London and Southeast England, IDEO Eyes Open: London, and City Secrets: London.

What’s coming up in the fall for me?  After one quick getaway to Seattle, I look forward to settling into autumn in New York, and to visiting the Charles Burchfield exhibition at the Whitney and Dead or Alive at MAD before each closes.  And I have some dressmaking and knitting to get back to as well.

I’ve recently returned from a week of professional conferences, and am finding myself a bit more effusive than usual about my work as a result. Here’s an example. Just last night, the woman behind me in line at my local grocer noticed my scissor-shaped tieclip that I wear as a pin and asked if I sew.
“Yes, I do. Do you?”
“Yes, I do too. I’m a student at Parsons.”
I expressed jealousy that she got to sew with such focus and purpose. I then stopped the checkout line in its tracks while I gave her my card and invited her to call on me if she ever needed help with her sewing research. That’s what these library conferences do; they turn me into that strange lady buying too many endives who excitedly accosts you in the store to explain how the library can help.

And what has so inspired me? First, and most predictably, was the work that I did to develop a seminar for the RBMS conference this year on the theme of artists in collaboration with libraries. I was one of three panelists, and while preparing my own talk (on a video series called Design by the Book) as well as while learning about my fellow panelists’ projects (Farrar Fitzgerald discussed the Rosenbach’s artist-in-residence program and Susan Shifrin spoke about building artist collaboration into the exhibition Picturing Women), I was reminded of the unique directions creative collaborations can take.

But my seminar was just one of many panels, discussions, and conversations, in which I learned about artists bringing library collections to life. These projects include Richard Ring’s inspired collaboration between AS220 and Providence Public Library, Bryn Mawr’s collaboration with booklyn to present Parallel Botany, and Penn’s forthcoming exhibition and symposium on artist and craftsman Wharton Esherick.  I also met a librarian who creates innovative ways of introducing younger groups to print history, and one at Loyola Marymount who has incorporated Design by the Book into a research guide for her students.  This same LMU librarian also built a National Union Catalog Christmas Tree at her library.

All of this idea sharing provides me with invaluable professional inspiration.  I’m now eager to find new ways to reach out to creative groups and individuals.  And not just at the grocery store.  Doing so means a commitment of time and energy, but the results—creative new interpretations of our unique collections by both professional and dilettante designers—makes it all more than worth the effort.  What are your ideas for facilitating friendship and collaboration between librarians and artists?

I’ve just returned from an early  summer vacation in England. The two-week mishmash of city explorations, countryside hikes, seaside walks, train stations, museums, bookshops, and meals wrapped in pastry was in many ways perfect. And along the way, I managed to shoe-horn in a bit of fabric shopping as well—which made things even nicer.

Pictured here are the three fabrics I brought home. From left to right, they are:

*A light-as-air cotton print that I hope might keep me cool even on New York’s most humid days once I sew it into a blouse.  I found it at Cloth House at 47 Berwick Street (they have two shops and you can tour each on their site). On the afternoon of my visit, the shop was filled with what seemed to be two distinct groups of ladies on some sort of fabric-hunting field trips.  Although their large numbers made browsing and getting help a bit of a comedic challenge, the visit was well worth it for the chance to see their selection of new and vintage fabrics and notions. My favorites: the printed cheesecloths, and the vintage linen-hemp.

*”Coral Leaves,” a limited edition reprint of a design found on a 1797 patchwork coverlet at the Victoria & Albert Museum.  The museum launched a memorable exhibition on quilts this year (more about my visit there on another day) and they’ve selected some of the loveliest historic fabric patterns from their quilts to reprint and sell.

*”Seed Head” in blue, also from the V&A’s limited edition reprints of historic patterns.  This was taken from another English patchwork coverlet, this time dating 1802-1830.

The alphabets that Maret documented in the catacombs have inspired his latest designs, and these designs were exciting to see at play.   By approaching historic forms as sources, not as fate, he can draw elements from them to inform new designs. I’m a big fan of looking back for future inspiration, and I look forward to learning more about Maret’s alphabets.  I’ll be spending some time at Maret’s site, his blog, and his other blog.  And I plan to find out what libraries hold his work at WorldCat.

Ever since I read Todd Oldham’s Kid Made Modern and talked with him about what inspired him to create it, I’ve been recommending this book to just about craft-curious person I know, both those with kids and those without.  The book’s genius lies in how it fits DIY projects—sewing, painting, stamping, paper sculpture, even architecture, and more—into the big picture of what real artists and designers do.  And every page is a visual treat of color, type, and bold images.  And did I mention there are whimsical rhymes?  It’s inspiring all around.  And this week it inspired me to make a little toy log for my dog Maisie.

One of the projects I fell for in Kid Made Modern is a log-shaped pillow made of felt and embellished with a sewn-on wood grain pattern.  For Maisie I envisioned a toy-sized version, one tough enough to resist her terrier teeth.

I created Maisie’s toy log out of felt, and I added faux bois seams (I did it freehand but Todd has a great template if you want to follow his lead).  And instead of stuffing it I just rolled up the rectangle of felt very tightly and sewed it closed by hand.

Maisie loves her toy log so much that she refuses to sit still to get her picture taken with it.  This log lady’s just passionate about handmade works, I suppose.

So, perhaps you consider yourself to be a jaded crafter.  And as far as you know, toymaking doesn’t have a regular place in the crafting repertoire you’ve created for your oh-so-grownup and cynical self. Maybe you even tend to make only what you deem to be useful items like clothing or, on a particularly whimsical day, a tea cosy that still has a job to do.

But then, one day, you find yourself holding some luxurious handmade felt, a needle and thread, and maybe some other trimmings and notions.  And you’ve been invited to make something so sweet and so unassuming that you don’t know how to respond beyond simply getting started.  The next thing you know, you’ve created your very own button-nosed, carrot-inspired finger puppet.  And you can’t wait to get your hands on the stuff to make more.

What caused this change of heart?  Nothing less than Kata Golda’s book, Hand-Stitched Felt, with its unabashed enthusiasm, gentle approach, and sweet results.  Golda’s creatures and toys make use of basic materials and straightforward hand sewing methods, but the results are anything but simplistic in their charms.  Each little doll, puppet, cushion, and cosy pattern leaves things open for personal and imaginative reworkings.

So, the Carrot’s home is atop a bottle of port in this adults-only household.  But don’t think for a second that this fellow doesn’t bring me the same joy that a child feels for new toy.  And yes, I do indeed plan to make more items from Kata’s wonderful book.  But first I need to place my order for the incomparable OhMa felt that she recommends.  This felt has made me rethink what this crafting staple should be. Just as Kata’s book has gotten me to think differently about making toys by hand.

Maisie’s our new dog.  She’s been to blame for much lost sleep and worry this past week as we’ve begun to get to know one another.  She’s also been the cause of lots of laughter and joy at home too.  Maisie has many secrets–like how she got that scar on her nose.  She came to us from a shelter in New Jersey, but she’s a Kentuckian by birth.  Here she’s resting on our funny toile-covered couch, with my first and so far only attempt at a patchwork blanket just in view behind her.  Someday Maisie will have bespoke knitted sweaters to wear, but for this latest unexpected cold snap she’s making do with prêt-à-porter.