This is probably the project I'm most proud of that I've done outside of 'work' lately. I was inspired by this exquisite piece of Venetian Lacework from the V&A.
Made between 1685 and 1700, it's a perfect representation of the attitude to lace at the time. As much of it as possible, the more intricate the better, and only for the strata of society for whom this is a viable handkerchief. It's obviously a very, very exclusive product. Thinking about needlelace, and how much I want to learn it, I set myself a similar project. This particular handkerchief is 37cm square, according to the museum records, and my guideline sketch is a little larger, about 40-42cm (needless to say, not only is it unlikely that I can find a good, authentic thread of a similar fineness, but I expect my own work to be rather clumsy and flimsy at first, so a very slight scaling-up will, I hope, be excusable). So, I had my inspiration and my scale, but I wasn't too keen on the design. I remembered a piece I had blogged about previously:
The Irish crochet accessory set from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Though on a much more realistic scale for a handkerchief, this is still a work of art that I'm sure was never used! I love the way the nineteenth-century trend for ferns and the beautiful naturalism of the Irish crochet medium combine to make something so full of the elegance of nature, yet so up-to-date and stylish for an 1850s woman. And that era of design was what I wanted to combine with the needlelace technique of earlier centuries. So, in the full knowledge of the time I would likely need to take for the project (it's long-long-term), I set about being very organised and keeping to the recommended stages for working. First, I drew out my design in pencil on some thick white paper. Then, I traced it, keeping the original paper as a backup/master draft. Next, I looked into some techniques in my book on Alençon lace, and found out about the background that lacemakers used originally. I found that this was most often a green-dyed sheet of vellum. Unable to find a vegetarian alternative closer than card, I bought some sheets of a dark green, as this apparently helps define the thread better, and keep the eyes from becoming strained. Then, I attached the tracing to the green card, and carefully, using a needle in a cork, pricked through the design, piece by piece, covering the tracing with yellow highlighter to ensure I didn't perforate the same area twice (you can see how yellow the draft became in the picture that the top of this post. I then removed the tracing, and was rather dismayed to find that the tracing was almost impossible to follow without constant reference to the tracing. Therefore, I improvised. I took an anglepoise lamp, removed the bulb, unscrewed the hood and surround, replaced the bulb, and laid it on the table, propping the hot bulb up away from the paper. Next I took an old box for Ferrero Rocher, stacked it on top of some glass jars so as to cast fewer shadows, and placed the tracing over the top. Voilà, a temporary lightbox. This way I could move the tracing around and see the precise location of the holes made in the drawing. I could now join them up on my green card, like a huge dot-to-dot puzzle! Once the drawing was complete, I took two sheets of poly-satin backing (knowing that, with their very artificial weave, there would be no impediment to the needle, and that the thread could pass through it at any spot without being distorted by the weave. I isolated my design within a box, and marked out the sides of the box with more perforations, one at each centimetre along. I then carefully stretched and sewed down the card to the two layers of satin. With this stage complete, I could try a trial tracing of the design. For this, I used a spool of special 100/3 sized linen thread for the laid thread, and some size 100 Japanese silk thread for the couching.
As you can see in the photo below, I've outlined part of a fern so far. There are some gaps in the design still, but they are where I am hoping to make thistles. As yet, I'm not sure how I will! Now that I am certain this project can be traced, it may be a good time to practice on a smaller, trial piece, each stage in full, and see whether it stays together when I cut it away from the backing! I've practised before with filling stitches, so I'm fairly confident I will be able to trace and fill the shapes, but as there is such an emphasis on the precise edging of motifs, especially in Alençon work, I shall have to but sure I know what I'm doing before I 'take the plunge'!
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