Skip to main content

Not by the Book

I grew up reading tons of how to books. I loved working my way through the entire extensive hand work collection at the Thomas Crane Public library. Often, that knowledge comes in handy. I get stuck and then the illustrations and directions from a book I may have read when I was twelve come to me. I know, other people have heads filled with Torah. My head is filled with how to directions from various sources.

The reason I needed to distract myself yesterday, was that I needed to apply lettering to the parochet/ark curtain. Applying lettering to a piece has been a point of difficulty for artisans, even back in ancient times. There is a mosaic floor in Israel from Roman times. The lettering is in mirror writing. It isn't in mirror writing as a cipher or hidden message, but rather because the artisan, clearly asked his friend with a nice handwriting to do the lettering. The friend wrote out the letters with a piece of charcoal. The artisan then patted the charcoaled lettering onto the plastered surface and covered the writing with black tiles.  I can hear the artisan's curse from across the centuries when they realized that they had ought to have first done the letters in mirror writing before transferring the design.

I can hear those curses, because I have uttered them myself.

Getting the lettering on this parochet offer several challanges. First of all, I have to apply the letters over a variety of worked surfaces, some are beaded, some are embroidered and some have the couched yarns, all of different thicknesses. The couching is almost guaranteed to get tangled in the sewing machine foot. Another complication is the fuzziness of the wool. It makes it hard for things to stick.

I had at first thought that I would paint the letters on a sheer cotton lawn, flip the lawn with the letters, and then put the painted letters on the back of the piece and then outline the letters by machine from the reverse of the parochet. If that sounds like a whole lot of work with considerable room for multiple disaster, then you are right. I got as far as painting the letters on the cotton with grey before abandoning that attempt.

I then tried again, this time, painting the letters so they would be seen, painting them in blue on a yellow silk gazar.My plan was to spray a temporary fixative to the back of the gazar, and then take advantage of the fixative and stitch the outlines of letters by machine, cut away the left over gazar and then re stitch.

It was a great idea, except that the temporary fixative didn't work, the combination of the slick gazar and the fuzzy wool didn't work.

I hate basting. It seems a total and complete waste of time to hand sew something with the intention of ripping it out. I hate using pins. I find that whenever I use pins, I get stabbed.

I came up with a solution that is both completely idiotic and  completely brilliant.Out of desperation, I decided to chain stitch around all of the letters using a light blue and silver yarn. Rather than waste time basting. I took a couple of stitches in the uppermost letter furthest to the left. Then I did a few stitches in the opposite corner. Working this way, a few stitches in each letter I anchored the silk gazar so it wouldn't slip as I continued to work. For a while, it looked like the lettering was being embroidered by someone with a bad case of ADD.

I don't think I have ever seen this method in any book. But for today, it worked for me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Connecting with the past

A few months ago I had a craving for my father’s chicken fricassee.  If my father were still alive I would have called him up and he would have talked me through the process of making it.    My father is no longer alive so I turned to my cookbooks and the recipes I found for chicken fricassee were nothing at all like the stew of chicken necks, gizzards and wings in a watery sweet and sour tomato sauce that I enjoyed as a kid.  I assumed that the dish was an invention of my father’s. I then attempted to replicate the dish from my memory of it and failed.   A couple of weeks ago I saw an article on the internet, and I can’t remember where, that talked about Jewish fricassee  and it sounded an awful lot like the dish I was hankering after. This afternoon I went to the butcher and picked up all of the chicken elements of the dish, a couple of packages each of wings, necks and gizzards. My father never cooked directly from a cook book. He used to re...

The light themed tallit has been shipped!!!

 I had begun speaking to Sarah about making her a tallit in the middle of August. It took a few weeks to nail down the design. For Sarah it would have been ideal if the tallit were completed in time for her to wear it on Rosh HaShanah., the beginning of her year as senior rabbi of her congregation. For me, in an ideal world, given the realities of preparing for the High Holidays I would have finished this tallit in the weeks after Sukkot. So we compromised and I shipped off the tallit last night.  I would have prefered to have more time but I got the job done in time. This tallit was made to mark Sarah's rise to the position of senior rabbi but it was also a reaction to this year of darkness. She chose a selection of verses about light to be part of her tallit. 1)  אֵל נוֹרָא עֲלִילָה  God of awesome deeds ( from a yom kippur Liturgical poem) 2)  אוֹר חָדָשׁ עַל־צִיּוֹן תָּאִיר   May You shine a new light on Zion ( from the liturgy) 3)  יָאֵר יְהֹ...

A Passover loss

 My parents bought this tablecloth during their 1955 visit to Israel. It is made out of  linen from the first post 1948 flax harvest. The linen is heavy and almost crude. The embroidery is very fine. We used this cloth every Passover until the center wore thin.  You can see the cloth on the table in the background of this photo of my parents and nephew My Aunt Sheva bought my mother a replacement cloth. The replacement cloth is made out of a cotton poly blend. The embroidery is crude and the colors not nearly as nice. The old cloth hung in our basement. We used the new cloth and remembered the much nicer original cloth. I loved that my aunt wanted to replace the cloth, I just hated the replacement because it was so much less than while evoking the beauty of the original. After my father died my mother sat me down and with great ceremony gave me all of her best tablecloths. She also gave me the worn Passover cloth and suggested that I could mend it. I did. Year after year ...