Embroidery 101: Prepping the Hoop, Back Stitch and Fixing Mistakes

You've got your design on your fabric (either by transfer, drawing or pre-printed designs) and gathered your supplies. Now what? 

First, you've got to get your fabric in your hoop. Embroidery hoops come in two pieces, the outer "open" hoop with a screw closure and the inner closed hoop. Hoops are most often found in wood and plastic. I prefer wooden hoops because of the warmer feel and they make great inexpensive frames, just make sure to get one that is reasonably thick. When possible, I like to fit my whole design in the hoop without having to keep moving it across the fabric, so most of my designs will fit a 6" hoop, which I find the most comfortable to hold. Hoops can also be found in 4", 7", 8" diameters or there are straight edged stretchers for larger projects.  If you're just starting out, a handful of 6-inchers will get you far.

Prepping the Hoop

I generally prefer to put the inner hoop on the back, which I'll show here, but others prefer to do it with the inner hoop on top, try both and see what you prefer! First, loosen the nut at the top to allow the inner hoop to drop out easily.

Place your fabric, design up, on top of the smaller inner hoop. If the whole design fits in your hoop, center it. For larger designs that don't fit the hoop, center the part you're planning to work on first.

Testing the Hoop Tension

Place the larger outer hoop on top, trapping the fabric between the inner and outer hoops. I usually put the screw at the top of the hoop, but place it wherever it will be in your way the least. Pull the fabric tightly around the inner hoop, making sure the design looks even and tighten the screw until the fabric is well-tensioned between the two parts of the hoop. It should have only a slight amount of give and will feel like a drum head when tapped. If it's too tight, you're needle will squeak as you stitch. Too loose and you risk distorting the design. 

Separating Plys

Pick the thread color you wish to work with first and cut a length about 1 yard (36 inches) long, or the distance between your fingers and the center of your chest. If you've used my thread prep tutorial, your thread will already be the perfect length. For this tutorial we're using 6-strand embroidery floss (DMC is the most common brand). If you're using Perle cotton or another tightly twisted thread, skip this step. 

6-strand floss is so-called because it's made of six individual plys that are very loosely twisted together. Depending on the thickness of line you want, you can stitch with up to all six plys for a thick line, to one ply for a very fine line. For most standard stitching, I use 2-3 plys, except for satin stitch (we'll cover it later), which I always work with 1 ply. 

Here, we'll use 2 plys. To separate plys, take the number of plys (2) you wish to use in your dominant hand, with the remaining plys (4) in your non-dominant hand. Pull your hands apart and the floss will begin to form a "Y" shape. It can be helpful to hold the loose end between your teeth to keep the floss from tangling as it separates. 

Back Stitch

Back stitch will get you incredibly far in the world of embroidery. You could do an entire project with the one stitch. It's great for straight lines, text and turning corners.

As it's name implies, back stitch works backward - you put the needle up through the fabric a stitch length away from your previous stitch and the the needled is insert back down by the end of the previous stitch.

Because of this backward nature, it's great to start any stitching line with as it holds the floss in place after a few stitches with no need for knots, simply hold the thread tail with your hoop hand until established. 

Back Stitch:
1. Make a stitch of desired length.
2. Along the design line, bring up the needle the length of one stitch away from previous stitch.
3. Bring needle backward and push down at the end of the previous stitch.
Repeat steps 2-3.

The bee leg shown here is made of four back stitches. A good stitch length will vary by the design, for example, tight curves will require shorter stitches. I generally work most stitches 1/8" to 1/4" long. Try to keep your stitches even (this will get easier with time), but don't worry too much about perfection, you're going for an overall effect and no one is going to look at individual stitches.

Fixing Mistakes

If you DO wish to pull out a stitch (or two), simply remove the needle from the thread, use the needle to pick out any wayward stitches, re-thread and carry on. If it's all knotted up, use fine-tipped scissors (like the iconic stork embroidery snips) to cut out the offending stitches and re-stitch. Any offending needle holes can usually be steamed out with an iron. 

I'll go into detail on other outlining stitches in the next post, but until then you can Click here for a downloadable PDF of basic stitches

Coneflower - Complete Kit

from $9.00

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Embroidery 101: Transferring a Design to Fabric

While you can certainly improvise embroidery (and I suggest you do at some point!), to learn, I recommend working an established design. You can do this in three primary ways: draw, trace or transfer or you can purchase a pre-printed design, which are becoming more and more widely available. 

Draw

Draw is exactly what it implies. You draw the design you wish to embroider directly on your fabric. The pro is that you can make the design anything you want, but it can be harder to adjust once you've drawn it without starting from scratch. You can draw on your fabric with a number of tools, (from bottom to top in above photo)

• A regular pencil (a thin mechanical pencil gives a delicate line). You might be able to erase it, but it is pretty much permanent.
• A water soluable dressmaker's pencil - you can sharpen to a fine line and erase with water if needed.
• A water soluable dressmaker's pen - this is a darker line and can be washed out, but is generally thicker.
• The top tool is a iron-on transfer pencil, which we'll discuss later.

If you're working on a dark fabric, look for white dressmaker's pencils and pens. 

Trace

Tracing is my favorite transfer method. You can tweak the design on paper as much as you want beforehand and then when you're happy with the design and scale of your image, you then transfer to the final fabric. To trace, you'll need any one of the tools listed above, plus some painters tape and a bright window (or a lightbox).

Take your final design and tape it up against your window. Tape the fabric over the image, so it is placed where you want. Tape the fabric securely so it doesn't shift as you trace. If it's sufficiently sunny (or you're using a lightbox) you should be able to see the image to trace easily. Using your tool of choice (my preference is the water soluable pencil or pen) trace the entire image, coloring in lines thicker or thinner as the design dictates. 

When you remove the fabric (last image) you should have a light copy of the design to stitch over. 

Iron-on Transfer

I don't really recommend this method, since the marks the transfer pencils make are permanent and, honestly, really hard to see, but it's an available method, so I thought I'd share. 

To do a iron-on transfer, you'll need to print or copy your final image as a mirror of what you want the finished design to look like. That is, any text should be backwards, etc. Using a iron-on transfer pencil, darkly trace your design on the paper. Then using an iron set on medium heat, press the image, traced side down, on the fabric. It will leave a faint pink mark. (Last image - can you see it? Squint really hard.)

Once you've got the image on your fabric, we'll get it in a hoop and start stitching!!

Click here for a downloadable PDF of basic stitches

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Your Questions - Part I

I recently ran a little giveaway on Instagram and one of the contest requirements was to either 1) suggest a tutorial or 2) ask me a question. Yes, I shamelessly pump my followers for blog content ideas! For tutorials, a beginner's guide to embroidery was the overwhelming ask and is currently in the works, but in the interim, I thought I'd answer the non-tutorial related questions. 

Here's a question for you:  how do you balance your work as a maker with your domestic and family life? You seem to have a great time doing both! - Carneykar

Balance.  That's the eternal question, isn't it? Ask any tightrope walker and they'd tell you that balance isn't a one-time trick and you've got it all figured out; instead it takes focus, constant adjusting and having a big stick to help even you out doesn't hurt. At least, that's what I'd guess they say, I don't know any tightrope walkers. 

In terms of mindset, making is a priority for me. You first make time in your life for what you need, (i.e. go to work to make money to feed your family and pay your mortgage, clean laundry, etc.) and then you prioritize (I hope) what you love, and I love both my family and making things.  

Making is as habitual for me as brushing my teeth, so I always have a variety of projects or ideas in the works and I give myself tools to work on them whenever an opportunity arises. Most of my sample knitting is done either on my carpool days or while I'm watching tv at the end of the day. I  always carry a knitting or embroidery project in my bag so I can stitch during lunch breaks or while waiting for appointments. I keep paper around to draw out new ideas and a notebook in my nightstand to jot down story ideas. I'm almost always doing something, but the majority of the time, making is how want to spend my "me time," even if it's for work purposes.

My daughter's playroom and my studio share a space - so we can "play" together. I've learned what I can and can't do with my daughter around: gardening or baking together - a hearty yes; tracing sewing patterns while she's coloring - yes;  cutting out fabric - no way. I've also learned to do everything in bits and pieces. When I really need to focus or do computer work, I work during naptime and I'm usually the last one in the house awake by a long shot. 

As much as I (mostly) enjoy all the aspects of my handmade business and want to grow it, I try to be forgiving of myself when I choose not to work.  I stayed up late last night weaving in ends and blocking a sample that is due shortly. I've got three more projects with deadlines in the queue, but if my daughter asks me to nap with her on the weekend, I probably will, because I know those chances to snuggle and plan her epic "Happy Heart Day" party before we fall asleep are short-lived.

I would also be remiss if I didn't give HUGE credit to Mr. Cleaver. He does 90% of the cooking and laundry in our household and the majority of things like grocery shopping as well. This means when I get home from work, I get to spend time with my daughter instead of rushing to make dinner and I can clean up the dishes in stages across the evening. I work from home one day a week now, which means I can help out more on the laundry/dinner/shopping front and try out fancy new recipes - which again I do in pieces. For example I made some spaetzle with pesto the other day - I made the pesto first thing in the morning before my workday started; mixed the dry ingredients and set out the pots I needed at my lunch break; and then dove into making it while Little Miss Cleaver watched My Little Pony after pickup from preschool. 

I'm certainly not prefect. Somedays I'm not as present with my family as I want to be. I'm terrible at actually taking a break. I wouldn't recommend eating off my floors.  It often feels like it takes me twice as long to get something done as I'd like it to. But I've also become more aware that life has a rhythm and an ebb and flow. So I keep my eyes on the wire, adjust as necessarily, and allow myself to be supported by those who help bring balance to my life. 

 I would like to know what is the inspiration for your designs? - cclynn14

A writer friend of mine introduced me to the phrase "plot bunnies" - the definition being that once you get one idea, it seems to multiply like rabbits until you have more ideas than time. I'd say the same is true for both my knitting and embroidery design.

Inspiration is everywhere, you just have to open and patient. I'm constantly seeing something that triggers an idea for a new design and that trigger can vary widely - I've designed four shawls based on bird-titled songs from my favorite bands, I've got a colorwork sweater in the works that came from a peeling wall paper image I saw in a friend's Instagram post about their home renovation.

Of course, if I didn't tell you that, you probably wouldn't see the connection, even if I placed them side by side. I find inspiration almost works like a dream - it takes familiar things, takes and element or two of familiarity - a mood or a color -  and shifts it into something different. With that wallpaper sweater, there's a muted color palate similar to the original and both have patterns with a circular quality, but that's about it. The songbird shawls set out to capture a mood (Leading Bird), a rather literal translation of the lyrics (Paper Bird and Tributary, aka "Cage the Songbird"), or the layout of the performers on stage (yet to be released Darlingside-inspired shawl).  

My embroidery designs are much more illustrative, and more literal in translation from concept to final design.  Often when I introduce someone to embroidery, I'll teach them by drawing a daisy on the fabric for them to trace- the Coneflower design took that idea and made it a bit more formal. (That pattern is also a secret sampler, which you'll see in the Embroidery 101 series coming up). With my embroidery designs, I'm often illustrating my dream life - something slightly agrarian and rooted in a sense of place, with a timeless quality. When I wanted to come up with a summer-themed hoop, I started thinking about all the things that would be a dream summer to me - inner tubing on a lazy river, rope swings, leaping off a dock into a lake, sun hats on the beach. Of all those ideas, the sun hats won out (see design in progress above), but it doesn't mean I won't revisit the other ones next year.  

One thing I've had to adjust to in designing is the forward-looking nature of it - as soon as I hit my current deadlines, I'm going to be working heavily on Christmas/Winter designs, in August.  Magazine work generally works on a 6-9 month lead time, so I'm designing summer sweaters in January and am knee deep in wool in July.  In those cases, mood boards from the call for submission are a great help, or I'll use Pinterest to make my own.  I'll often collect images for years before they coalesce into something - I'd been collecting images of strong rural women in early 20th paintings and photographs for sometime before it was translated into the Prairie Wife Cardigan and I'm far from done playing with that concept.  I still have a treasure trove of inspiration I've yet to translate yet - art from Andrew Wyeth and Barbara Cooney, Anne of Green Gables and my love of 1950s sci-fi - all hundreds of design bunnies, just waiting to be born. 

Something else you'd like to know? Ask in the comments below and I'll include it Part II.

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Summer of Basics: Moss Skirt

Karen Templer of Fringe Association is hosting a make-along called The Summer of Basics. The idea behind it being to make 3 garments (knitted or sewn) over three months that would be workhorse garments for the maker.

I often waffle about joining in on make-alongs, I like the sense of community they bring, but because so much of my making is already dictated by deadlines I generally don't want to add non-necessary deadlines to my life.

However,  in this case, the time frame is generous, and as previously discussed, I'm in serious need of some workhorse garments to fill some sizable gaps in my wardrobe right now. So I'm in.

For my first basic, I chose Grainline Studios Moss Skirt. Normally, my style is less austere and modern than the overall Grainline aesthetic, but I find them so thoughtfully designed, that I've made quite a number of her patterns. I've been wanting a simple skirt with a fly closure to replace my beloved 15-year old denim skirt, and Moss fit the bill. I'm not a mini fan, so I opted for View B with the hem band and added an extra inch to the length of the main skirt portion. Other than that I stuck to the directions, and was surprised to find that I've apparently sew enough flies that I'm no longer scared of them. The fabric is a nice chambray I got on the cheap from Marden's (a surplus store) and I did faux flat-felled seams for a jeans-inspired look. Even with interfacing, the chambray stretches a bit more than I expected, so I may take in the waist band a bit after it's next washing. 

I've already worn it twice in the week since I made it, and knowing how much use my old denim skirt got, I know this will be a definite workhorse. 

The top is a Fancy Tiger Sailor Top made in some quilting cotton, that incidentally I also used in the pocket linings of the skirt. I made it before the make along kick off, so it's not part of my official Summer of Basics makes, but I'm pretty sure I'll be making another soon (my third), so I'll save my comments on the pattern for then. 

All in all, as outfit that is comfortable, easy to wear and feels so very me. A win-win!

• Top: Fancy Tiger Sailor Top
• Skirt: Grainline Moss Skirt
• Shoes: Tropentorp Clogs

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Summer Rain Shawl in Taproot Magazine

As a child, I dreamed of summer storms.

Growing up in northern California, my summers consisted of soaking my swimsuit in the sprinkler and rushing to the driveway to leave an ephemeral body print on the concrete; of running barefoot across the hot asphalt to my friend’s house and trying not to burn my feet; of the dark towels my mother put over the windows in the daytime to keep out the heat.

I wanted my summers to be cooler, wetter. I longed for days that passed like a Country Time Lemonade commercial: afternoons spent floating in an old tire inner tube down a lazy river, swinging from a rope into the old swimmin’ hole, taking laps to the dock in the middle of the lake, numerous bodies of water inexplicably available to the same child in a 30-second spot.

I thought a summer storm would be the perfect antidote to the dry California heat, a backyard sprinkler writ large. I imagined I’d see the clouds building up, pull on my one-piece and hurry outside to dance in the warm droplets falling gently from the sky. Summer perfection wrapped up in a single moment.

Later, in my twenties, when I lived in Chicago, I learned that the reality of summer storms could be a very different thing. Chicago summers were hot and sticky. I slept on a futon mattress on the floor of a studio apartment in Hyde Park, a fan positioned on either side of my bed, hoping for a respite from the heat. The storms I wished for a child would come frequently, but no gentle sprinkle, these; instead, soaking torrents of water, best avoided, but quickly gone.

My second summer in Chicago, my husband and I had relocated to the north side of the city. I’d walk the blocks of my neighborhood on summer nights, the sticky nights made more bearable by the cool lakeside breeze. Our apartment was just blocks from Lake Michigan, and though we visited the shores often, I only swam in its waters twice. My first swim in that wide body of water was on a hot day, the water sufficiently warm, and the feel of lake-bottom plants and tiny fish against my legs a constant reminder that this was no tile-lined pool.

My second swim was on an equally hot day, but the water shocked me with it chill. I paid no attention to the flora and fauna as the icy water stung like daggers and made my toes go numb. I wrapped myself in a towel and we rushed home to change. By the time we reached the apartment, a tornado warning had come in and we watched as the clouds folded in on top of themselves, faster and faster, building up into a dense grey wall on the horizon. My hair still damp from the lake, we sat in the windowless lobby of our building and waited the storm out – the menacing clouds giving us thunder and hail and rain.

As a child, it seemed silly that summer only truly started June 21st. School had been released weeks before and the season of short-sleeves and flip-flops had been in swing well before that. In Chicago, the march of time was marked by the swing from biting cold winds to sweltering humidity. Even so, I didn’t really understand the seasons until I moved to Maine.

Not spring, summer, winter, fall. We had all of those, even in California.

But the 16-day window of Lupine Season, when the highways burst forth in spires of purple and blue and pink, or the two weeks when the strawberries are available for picking, its arrival watched for and counted in pint baskets at the farmer’s market. There is the weekend in July when the window air-conditioning units go in and month-long debate in September on when to take them out. Each week in June, July, and August seeming to be a short-lived season of its own.

Perhaps it is because I no longer live in a land of continuous produce, or because I am a gardener now, that so much of the summer is measured in food – not the dwindling canisters of powdered lemonade of my childhood or the cheap takeout of my twenties, but rather, in limited runs of fiddleheads and sugar-snap peas, of strawberries, then raspberries, then blueberries, to finally end in the bags of apples that are picked in that time between the seasons that can be alternately cold or sweltering hot.

The brevity of these seasons brings a different rhythm to my Maine summers, a sense of urgency and a need to take advantage of everything at its peak that I had never felt before. In this environment, the dozen or so summer storms take on a different role, offering a break from activity. They are not an invitation to play, nor to hide, but to simply be.

In the winter, the Nor’easter asks us to stay inside and enjoy the quiet; in the summer, the rains do the same. The storms are a chance to lay in bed and hear the raindrops ping against the top of that window air-conditioning unit, drumming out a steady tattoo that seems to say “Be still, be still, be still.”

As child, summer storms were illusive, illusionary things; in Chicago, they were wild and sometimes terrifying. Now, as an adult, they are a respite. After a stretch of hot sunny days, the plants in my garden welcome the rain. I follow their lead, raise my face to the heavens, and drink it in.

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The Summer Rain shawl, inspired by my longing for those summer storms and the peace they now bring can be found in the latest issue of Taproot Magazine: GROW. They also carry kits for the pattern, which uses 2 skeins of Milo by Manos Del Uruguay, a gorgeous merino & linen blend with amazing drape that is truly one of my favorite yarns on the market right now. The issue is available on newstands and online now and you can queue up the project on Ravelry. 

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Prepping and Storing Your Embroidery Floss - a tutorial

Embroidery floss is one of those supplies that seems to sneak up on you. I did for me. I'd buy a couple of skeins for a project here, then a half-dozen for another project there. I'll tell myself that I'd wind them onto the little cardboard bobbins, and organize them into binders or boxes, but more often than not I'd pull them from directly from the skeins until I wound up with a tangled mess.

In truth, even when I did bother with the bobbins, I never really cared for them. The floss would get kinked on the card, I'd have to do a bunch of unwinding and re-winding ever time I'd need a new length of floss, and they never stayed put in their binder pages. It was more trouble than it was worth.

Then an acquaintance introduced me to floss braids and it was a gamer changer for me. No special equipment needed, quick and easy to do, and honestly, kind of pretty. And by using the existing label,  I didn't have to rewrite the color code on anything, and spare lengths could be looped back through the label..But the best part was that the thread was already cut into perfect lengths for stitching. 

Like I said, game changer. 

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EMBROIDERY KITS & PATTERNS

FO Roundup

One of the most fun parts of being a designer is seeing how others interpret your designs. Here are a few of my favorite finished objects (FOs) of late (click on any photo to visit the knitter's Ravelry page):

Tributary, knit by Caitlin (schmidr)

Ripley, knit by Kim (willknit4borscht)

Caiterly, knit by Jenny (Jenny A Kortfelt)

Cresting Waves, knit by Jenny (jennyinmaine)

Zoetrope, knit by Stacy (shutterhoney)

Bradac, knit by laraghdaniel

I love the colors each of these knitters have chosen to make the pattern their own and I'm in love with the face on that bear!!

Want to share your knits with me? Tag me @mscleaver on Instagram, or if it's on Ravelry, I'll see it. :) 

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Tributary - PDF Pattern

Zoetrope – PDF Pattern

Ripley - PDF Pattern

Bradac - PDF Pattern

Caiterly - PDF Pattern

Comfy Casual

Though my preference for daily wear tends toward toward the more feminine and slightly retro, when it comes to weekend wear, I'm more of a sweatshirt girl. 

Literally, a sweatshirt. 

As in, one old grey striped Old Navy sweatshirt that I've been wearing constantly for about four years straight. 

I've been overdue for an upgrade for years, and the Grainline Linden pattern has been in stash for a while, but I've had the darndest time finding an appropriate fabric I liked. Then I was on Fabric.com looking for fabric to embroider on when this Robert Kaufman speckled French Terry popped up on a sidebar and into my basket shortly thereafter.

It's a nice thick fabric, but be warned, should you follow my example in making it into a sweatshirt, it's a very stable knit, but not a very stretchy one. It worked great for the body, but I decided to do self cuffs/hems (turned wrong side out for some textural variety) and I had to recut a longer piece for the neckband, because it would not stretch to fit at all. The end result came out fine, but I expect it's a bit more open than designed. I also chose to top-stitch my hems with a double-needle in some hot pink thread for an extra (if subtle) pop of color. 

You may never see me wearing it in person, but have no doubt that I'll be popping this on every evening until and weekend until it gets too warm. 

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Heidi Pullover

My sewing mojo has been deader than a doornail over the past few months, so it was somewhat surprising when I saw a new pattern release on Instagram, immediately bought the pattern, and sewed it up a few days later.

The pattern is the brand-new Heidi Pullover from Anna Allen Clothing.  I was a bit hesitant about the lack of bust darts, but I loved the simplicity and style of the pattern, so I pulled this fabric from my stash (Alexander Henry circa 2008) for a wearable muslin. The fabric is a quilting cotton, and hence a bit stiffer than I'd like, but I had a sufficient amount in my stash and who doesn't need a rooster top? 

I made no adjustments to the pattern other than cutting the bust at size 12 and the hips and sleeves at size 14, as is fairly standard for me. The instructions for this pattern are great and result in a nice clean finish inside as well as outside. I didn't go to the link for the thread chain tutorial and instead just crocheted one of out buttonhole thread. The fabulous ceramic button is from Betka Pottery. 

Considering that I was able to cut it out and sew it in a single naptime, AND it looks great, I'm definitely making more of these. I also think it could be super cute lengthened into a simple dress. (Ohh, in chambray...I foresee some fabric shopping in my future.) 

All in all, a perfect project to kickstart my sewing mojo - so much so, I've got another project lined up for this weekend!

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