Part 14 (1/2)
(d) Varieties of st.i.tches may be cla.s.sified under two sections: one of st.i.tches in which the thread is looped, as in chain st.i.tch, knotted st.i.tches, and b.u.t.ton-hole st.i.tch; the other of st.i.tches in which the thread is not looped, but lies flatly, as in short and long st.i.tches--crewel or feather st.i.tches as they are sometimes called,--darning st.i.tches, tent and cross st.i.tches, and satin st.i.tch.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 3.--Satin St.i.tch.]
Almost all of these st.i.tches produce different sorts of surface or texture in the embroidery done with them. Chain st.i.tches, for instance, give a broken or granular-looking surface (Fig. 2). This effect in surface is more strongly marked when knotted st.i.tches are used. Satin st.i.tches give a flat surface (Fig. 3), and are generally used for embroidery or details which are to be of an even tint of colour. Crewel or long and short st.i.tches combined (Fig. 4) give a slightly less even texture than satin st.i.tches. Crewel st.i.tch is specially adapted to the rendering of coloured surfaces of work in which different tints are to modulate into one another.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 4.--Feather or Crewel St.i.tch--a mixture of long and short st.i.tches.]
(e) The effects of st.i.tches in relation to the materials into which they are worked can be considered under two broadly-marked divisions.
The one is in regard to embroidery which is to produce an effect on one side only of a material; the other to embroidery which shall produce similar effects equally on both the back and front of the material. A darning and a satin st.i.tch may be worked so that the embroidery has almost the same effect on both sides of the material. Chain st.i.tch and crewel st.i.tch can only be used with regard to effect on one side of a material.
(f) But these suggestions for a simple cla.s.sification of embroidery do not by any means apply to many methods of so-called embroidery, the effects of which depend upon something more than st.i.tches. In these other methods cutting materials into shapes, st.i.tching materials together, or on to one another, and drawing certain threads out of a woven material and then working over the undrawn threads, are involved.
Applied or applique work is generally used in connection with ornament of bold forms. The larger and princ.i.p.al forms are cut out of one material and then st.i.tched down to another--the junctures of the edges of the cut-out forms being usually concealed and the shapes of the forms emphasised by cord st.i.tched along them. Patchwork depends for successful effect upon skill in cutting out the several pieces which are to be st.i.tched together. Patchwork is a sort of mosaic work in textile materials; and, far beyond the homely patchwork quilt of country cottages, patchwork lends itself to the production of ingenious counterchanges of form and colour in complex patterns. These methods of applique and patchwork are peculiarly adapted to ornamental needlework which is to lie, or hang, stretched out flatly, and are not suited therefore to work in which is involved a calculated beauty of effect from folds.
(g) There are two or three cla.s.ses of embroidery in relief which are not well adapted to embroideries on lissome materials in which folds are to be considered. Quilting is one of these cla.s.ses. It may be artistically employed for rendering low-relief ornament, by means of a stout cord or padding placed between two bits of stuff, which are then ornamentally st.i.tched together so that the cord or padding may fill out and give slight relief to the ornamental portions defined by and enclosed between the lines of st.i.tching. There is also padded embroidery or work consisting of a number of details separately wrought in relief over padding of hanks of thread, wadding, and such like.
Effects of high relief are obtainable by this method. Another cla.s.s, but of lower relief embroidery, is couching (Fig. 5), in which cords and gimps are laid side by side, in groups, upon the face of a material, and then st.i.tched down to it. Various effects can be obtained in this method. The colour of the thread used to st.i.tch the cords or gimp down may be different from that of the cords or gimp, and the st.i.tches may of course be so taken as to produce small powdered or diaper patterns over the face of the groups of cords or gimp. Gold cords are often used in this cla.s.s of work, which is peculiarly identified with ecclesiastical embroideries of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, as also with j.a.panese work of later date.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 5.--A form of Embroidery in relief, called ”Couching.”]
(h) The embroidery and work hitherto alluded to has been such as requires a foundation of a closely woven nature, like linen, cloth, silk, and velvet. But there are varieties of embroidery done upon netted or meshed grounds. And on to these open grounds, embroidery in darning and chain st.i.tches can be wrought. For the most part the embroideries upon open or meshed grounds have a lace-like appearance. In lace, the contrast between close work and open, or partially open, s.p.a.ces about it plays an important part. The methods of making lace by the needle, or by bobbins on a cus.h.i.+on, are totally distinct from the methods of making lace-like embroideries upon net.
(i) Akin to lace and embroideries upon net is embroidery in which much of its special effect is obtained by the withdrawal of threads from the material, and then either whipping or overcasting in b.u.t.ton-hole st.i.tches the undrawn threads. The Persians and embroiderers in the Grecian Archipelago have excelled in such work, producing wondrously delicate textile grills of ingenious geometric patterns. In this drawn thread work, as it is called, we often meet with the employment of b.u.t.ton-hole st.i.tching, which is an important st.i.tch in making needlepoint lace (Fig. 6).
[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 6.--b.u.t.ton-hole St.i.tching, as used in needlepoint lace.]
(j) We also meet with the use of a weaving st.i.tch resembling in effect, on a small scale, willow weaving for hurdles. This weaving st.i.tch, and the method of compacting together the threads made with it, are closely allied to that special method of weaving known as tapestry weaving. Some of the earliest specimens of tapestry weaving consist of ornamental borders, bands, and panels, which were inwoven into tunics and cloaks worn by Greeks and Romans from the fourth century before Christ, up to the eighth or ninth after Christ. The scale of the work in these is so small, as compared with that of large tapestry wall-hangings of the fifteenth century, that the method may be regarded as being related more to drawn thread embroidery than to weaving into an extensive field of warp threads.
A sketch of the different employments of the foregoing methods of embroidery is not to be included in this paper. The universality of embroidery from the earliest of historic times is attested by evidences of its practice amongst primitive tribes throughout the world. Fragments of st.i.tched materials or undoubted indications of them have been found in the remains of early American Indians, and in the cave dwellings of men who lived thousands of years before the period of historic Egyptians and a.s.syrians. Of Greek short and long st.i.tch, and chain st.i.tch and applique embroidery, there are specimens of the third or fourth century B.C. preserved in the Hermitage at St. Petersburg.
Babylonians, Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans were skilful in the use of tapestry weaving st.i.tches. Dainty embroidery, with delicate silken threads, was practised by the Chinese long before similar work was done in the countries west of Persia, or in countries which came within the Byzantine Empire. In the early days of that Empire, the Emperor Theodosius I. framed rules respecting the importation of silk, and made regulations for the labour employed in the _gynaecea_, the public weaving and embroidering rooms of that period, the development and organisation of which are traceable to the apartments allotted in private houses to the sempstresses and embroideresses who formed part of the well-to-do households of early cla.s.sic times.
ALAN S. COLE.
DESIGN
”_Drink waters out of thine own cistern, and running waters out of thine own well._”--SOLOMON.
”_Produce; produce; be it but the infinitesimallest product, produce._”--CARLYLE.
For the last sixty years, ever since the Gothic Revival set in, we have done our best to resuscitate the art of embroidery. First the Church and then the world took up the task, and much admirable work has been done by the ”Schools,” the shops, and at home. And yet the verdict still must be ”the old is better.”
Considering all things, this lack of absolute success is perplexing and needs to be explained. For we have realised our ideals. Never was a time when the art and science of needlework were so thoroughly understood as in England at the present moment. Our designers can design in any style. Every old method is at our fingers' ends. Every ingenious st.i.tch of old humanity has been mastered, and a descriptive name given to it of our own devising. Every traditional pattern--wave, lotus, daisy, convolvulus, honeysuckle, ”Sacred Horn” or tree of life; every animal form, or bird, fish or reptile, has been traced to its source, and its symbolism laid bare. Every phase of the world's primal schools of design--Egyptian, Babylonian, Indian, Chinese, Greek, Byzantine, European--has been ill.u.s.trated and made easy of imitation. We are archaeologists: we are critics: we are artists. We are lovers of old work: we are learned in historical and aesthetic questions, in technical rules and principles of design. We are colourists, and can play with colour as musicians play with notes. What is more, we are in terrible earnestness about the whole business. The honour of the British nation, the credit of Royalty, are, in a manner, staked upon the success of our ”Schools of Needlework.” And yet, in spite of all these favouring circ.u.mstances, we get no nearer to the old work that first mocked us to emulation in regard to power of initiative and human interest.
Truth and gallantry prompt me to add, it is not in st.i.tchery but in design that we lag behind the old. Fair English hands can copy every trick of ancient artistry: finger-skill was never defter, will was never more ardent to do fine things, than now. Yet our work hangs fire. It fails in design. Why?
Now, Emerson has well said that all the arts have their origin in some enthusiasm. Mark this, however: that whereas the design of old needlework is based upon enthusiasm for birds, flowers, and animal life,[1] the design of modern needlework has its origin in enthusiasm for antique art. Nature is, of course, the groundwork of all art, even of ours; but it is not to Nature at first-hand that we go. The flowers we embroider were not plucked from field and garden, but from the camphor-scented preserves at Kensington. Our needlework conveys no pretty message of