Thanksgiving Day, 2009, my middle nephew’s wife roped me in to help with a project for her daughter’s Waldorf School winter faire: creating and applying designs to little felt pouches by a technique called needle felting. Needle felting, thinks I, What’s that?
So I was glad enough to pitch in with my grand-niece’s project, though no more than mildly interested. But it was magical: drape a bit of green fluff (that is, unspun wool) across the background, stab it a few times with a wicked-looking barbed spike, and it is a jumping frog. Stab it a bit more to make sure it stays a frog and doesn’t ravel and snag, then poke at tinier wisps of brown and white to make a dragonfly fleeing the frog.... Before we had to clear the table for din, I’d made another pouch with a unicorn, and another with a leopard - learning for the first time what a pain needle felted spots can be. And all the way home on the train, I was on fire with plans to get the supplies and somehow turn the flat-design techniques into free-standing sculptures. You could do a lizard, easy - just cut out two shapes from felt and put the top half on one and the bottom on the other, then sew them together....
Even with short-staple wool, washed and some of it dyed but all otherwise straight from the sheep, and nothing but a plastic dog brush to comb it on, it was the best medium ever for what I do. Forget finding something as good as ceramics; needle felting is better! It doesn’t dry out and become useless if you have to leave a piece half-made for hours or days; it doesn’t disappear into dark and fire with a 40%+ chance of emerging as rubble; it doesn’t break if it hits the floor. Long-leggedy beasties can stand on their own from the get-go, so there’s no need to work with the piece in a sling till the legs dry. And the colors! The colors stay where you put them, and you can tell what they are - unlike glazes, all of which look like grayish mud in the bottle and many of which react with each other in the kiln in ways that leave no choice but attempting to skin the poor beast with a Dremel tool.
December 1 I made my first piece - an attempt at the lizard that had filled my mind on the train home from my nephew’s place. [Link] By the time it had taught me all it could, it was still much plumper and fuzzier than the mental image... but it was clear this was going to work!
Over the next couple of weeks production averaged about two days per figure. And the saga continues in my blog....