Blackwork

I am a craft enthusiast. If it involves a needle (or pair of needles), I love it. I do beadwork, cross stitch, and knitting. Crochet confuses me, though I am working to correct that. I have yet to try quilting or applique, but I'm sure I'll get around to them eventually.

I am also an avid supporter of the library system. Especially in a recession when spare money for non-essentials like books on crafts doesn't come easily in my family. A library comes in handy - plus when perusing the craft book section, I occasionally come upon new sub-genres in my current favorite craft genres.

A couple of weeks ago I stumbled upon a book that described Blackwork, a history that goes back to the Moorish occupation of Spain, and perhaps even further. If you look at the original blackwork designs (or what remains in portraits) you will find a lot of them look like the geometric patterns of the Moorish architecture. It wasn't until Queen Elizabeth changed the patterns to a more 'English aesthetic' with fruits, flowers, and herbs that we saw changes to how blackwork was used.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

What is blackwork?

Blackwork is a form of counted thread embroidery that traditionally used black thread (I bet you guessed) in geometric patterns. Originally used for cuffs and simple decoration, this reversible style of stitching was hardly simple. It was also originally used with silk thread on expensive fabrics.

It reached England in the 1500's and possibly earlier (Chaucer included a description in the Canterbury Tales), but it is Catherine of Aragon who is attributed to bringing it over to England from Spain, which led to it being called Blackwork or 'Spanish work'. But trying to find a portrait of Catherine that has blackwork in it has been difficult. This is the best I could find. I'm sure the patterns on the sleeves and bodice are actually brocade or damask fabric (I could be wrong), but if you look around the cuffs you'll see a painter's hint at what could have been blackwork.

Can you only imagine the work that has to go in to such a piece? Since this isn't the greatest of blackwork portrait examples, I give you -

Jane Seymour - If you look at the cuffs you'll see beautiful black designs lovingly detailed by the painter.

Mary Cornwalis - This blackwork is showing Queen Elizabethan influence with the motifs being floral, and not on the cuffs (since there are none to speak of) but on the collar, sleeves and bodice as well. Since the sleeves and bodice were not meant to be seen from both sides, this type of blackwork was not reversible, and more of shapes outlined and then filled with the goemetric blackwork patterns which give it a shaded appearance.

And now for the Queen Elizabeth I herself - Beautiful blackwork covering sleeves and skirt. (I can only imagine the hours it took. @_@) Despite an unfortunate interest in the funky collars, Queen Elizabeth I was a fashionable gal. The portraits I have seen of her are amazing. This is the best I found with blackwork on it.


Sadly blackwork saw a decline after Queen Elizabeth I, but like all great crafts, never went away completely. Happily with the resurgence of interest in the 'old arts' blackwork, like many other crafts, are coming out of obscurity. And modern blackwork is no longer completely black. With the many colored threads available to us,it would be foolish not to branch out and use colors.

The more I discover about needle arts amaze me. Yet my abilities with the needle are still small - so I have designed a project more to my tastes, which I hope to finish in a couple of days. I am supposed to be working on a trade with a friend from Sprite Stitch but my q-frame hasn't arrived yet, I am fidgety.

Made by Faewren ^_^

I present blackwork Pikachu! I am a Pokefan and have been since 1999 when I first went to college. So a Pokemon felt like a good place to start. I designed him in the Elizabethan style with an outline first, then with filler. I used extra shading, and left in the facial details and the arms. I think he came out splendidly.

If anyone wants the pattern you can use it, but since it was designed by me I'd appreciate credit if you plan on posting this anywhere.

There are a LOT of awesome blackwork examples out there. And not all of them are from portraits of Medieval women. I leave it to you to look up the pretties.

I'll end with a quote that I found that seems to sum up blackwork adequately.

"Blackwork is black, except when it’s not. Blackwork is reversible, except when it’s not. Blackwork is a counted thread technique, except when it’s not. Blackwork is called “blackwork,” except (you guessed it) when it’s not."

Thinking - or not thinking - About Art

This post really has nothing to do with pixel art, or really art at all, and yet at the same time it has EVERYTHING to do with art. (I know, confusing right?)

Ok, my husband helped me to stumble on to a website called Everything is a Remix, which I actually enjoy, because I love the quote, "Not even Shakespeare was an original". This guy is 'remixing' the idea that nothing is original we just alter, copy, borrow and outright steal our ideas.  But he's not condemning it. He's saying it's all right - and I agree with him.

I'm stealing a quote from his website -

"Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don't bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: "It's not where you take things from - it's where you take things to." - Jim Jarmusch

 Ok - so what does that have to do about thinking about art? I'm getting there.

There is an article on EIAR that links to an io9 article that discusses "white guilt" or "sorry about colonialism" movies. This one is talking directly about James Cameron's Avatar. I don't really care for what the article says, but I love the first comment under it. It is not exactly about the article but about the commentators on the web that say, "why can't you just enjoy it for what it is?"

As a former "just enjoy it"-er I used to say this when people complained about movies being copies of other movies/books/what-have-you. But the guy brought up a valuable point. Discussing it, analyzing it, seeking personal deeper meaning - this IS enjoying it for what it is. Not everyone will agree with you, not everyone will think the same thing is art. For example, I have issues about a certain soup can.

I'm never using the 'just enjoy it' argument ever again.

I'll leave you with a quote -

"So when you go out of your way to suggest that people should be thinking less -- that not using one's capacity for reason is an admirable position to take, and one that should be actively advocated -- you are not saying anything particularly intelligent. And unless you live on a parallel version of Earth where too many people are thinking too deeply and critically about the world around them and what's going on in their own heads, you're not helping anything; on the contrary, you're acting as an advocate for entropy.

And most annoyingly of all, you're contributing to the conversation yourselves when you make your stupid, stupid comments. You are basically saying, "I think people shouldn't think so much and share their thoughts, that's my thought that I have to share." If you really think people should just enjoy the movie without thinking about it, then why did you (1) click on the post in the first place, and (2) bother to leave a comment? If it bugs you so much, GO WATCH A FUNNY CAT VIDEO."

 And for me, pixel art is a perfect example of 'stealing with authenticity'. It either may directly steal - Mario world 1-1 anyone? - or borrow - 'evolution of Mario', but either way, each one becomes a personal work of art. And isn't that the point anyway?

Hokusai - Artist, Paparazzi, and Crazy Old Art Man of the Tokugawa Period

My first introduction to the Japanese artist Hokusai was by random chance. I was perusing the non-fiction section of my local library and a small, white book jumped out at me. It was Hokusai: One Hundred Views of Mt. Fuji by Henry D. Smith II.
 
Having done more research on the artist, I realized that I had seen Hokusai’s work long before this - on everything from pencils to journals sold at the big book store chains.

    The Great Wave off Kanagawa is well known in the Western world, and is thought to be a prime example of Japanese art.  In reality it is a prime example of Western art as interpreted through genius Japanese eyes. Even though he lived during Japan’s last isolationist period, he was influenced by the art of Dutch artists such as Rembrandt van Rijn, Jacob van Ruisdael, and Jan van Goyen which were smuggled into Japan.
 
Hokusai began his career at the age of six, under the man thought to be his father, Nakajime Ise, a mirror-maker for the Tokugawa shogun. His name was Tokitaro. At 12 he was sent to a bookshop where they made books from wood-cut blocks - a popular pastime for the upper classes (Tales of Genji anyone?).
 
But at 18 he was accepted into the Katsukawa art school, where painting famous kabuki actors, courtesans and other high-ranking individuals were the popular items to have in the large Japanese cities. The Katsukawa art school also introduced Hokusai to ukiyo-e, a style of wood block prints that Hokusai would master.    However, Hokusai was a rebel, and a little argumentative which led to him being kicked out of the Katsukawa art school, and a few others.
 
This was probably a good thing in the long run, as he changed his focus from the ‘high society paparazzi’ pictures of courtesans, and began to focus on landscapes and other topics that interested him. It is also interesting to note that he began to add in views of the common man and everyday life in his artwork.

    Hokusai was a modern artist before there were modern artists. Move over soup cans, Hokusai won an art competition with a single blue curve, red paint and a chicken. The story goes like this - Shogun Iyenari held a competition in his court, of which Hokusai was one of the participants. He painted the blue curve on his paper, dipped the chicken’s feet in red paint and chased it across the paper! Hokusai’s explanation - it was a view of the Tatsuta River with falling maple leaves.
 
Hokusai lived to be 89 and left behind more than 30,000 works, including ukiyo-e style, silk screen paintings, and mangas - a collection of sketches, not the story-based manga of modern day. To list every style or work would be impossible, but he is an artist of note and worthy of further investigation.
 
On a more bawdy note, Hokusai also dabbled in erotica art, and is considered perhaps one major inspiration of the tentacle sex genre with his painting of The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife.

A perfectionist to the end, in his postscript to the 100 Views of Mt. Fuji he wrote,

    “From around the age of six, I had the habit of sketching from life. I became an artist, and from fifty on began producing works that won some reputation, but nothing I did before the age of seventy was worthy of attention. At seventy-three, I began to grasp the structures of birds and beasts, insects and fish, and of the way plants grow. If I go on trying, I will surely understand them still better by the time I am eighty-six, so that by ninety I will have penetrated to their essential nature. At one hundred, I may well have a positively divine understanding of them, while at one hundred and thirty, forty, or more I will have reached the stage where every dot and every stroke I paint will be alive. May Heaven, that grants long life, give me the chance to prove that this is no lie.”

    Hokusai died in 1849, four short years before Commodore Matthew C. Perry sailed into Tokyo Bay, signaling the end of the Shogunate, and the end of Japan’s old way of life. But Hokusai’s influence still lives on today.

Self Portrait from 1839