My artwork begins with a vision of the completed work. Though I see the details in my head, I find it nearly impossible to translate them onto paper. I believe this is because they are not meant to be manifested by a pencil, but by yarn. So I draw a scant thumbnail sketch, barely outlining the major design elements and their placement.
The original vision gives me a sense of what colors to use. To pick the yarn I need for the work, I open all my yarn boxes, and fish through my extensive collection. On the table or floor, I pile all the colors that feel compatible to my vision at the time. After I have gone through my boxes, I check the pile I have chosen. There are usually a few yarns that don’t fit, and these I cull until the pile of colors feels just right. Sometimes I sense I'm missing a color, and scout my favorite yarn shops for something new.
I already have a sense of the size of the piece and purchase a needlepoint canvas at least a few inches larger, to allow enough room for the framers to stretch the finished work onto a frame. I sketch the few major design elements onto the canvas, and then I begin crocheting.
Each crocheted piece is like a painter’s brushstroke. Some are tiny, a mere quarter-inch wide and half-inch long. Most are larger.
Crocheting the pieces is the easy part, except it can take a lot of thought and creativity to design pieces that look like natural elements. How do you make yarn look like treetops, clouds, and sea? How do you make a pine tree look like it has needles? Or a river that appears to flow? Or rocks and flowers that look real? I spend hours thinking about these challenges and imagining possible solutions. Needless to say, I have a scrap-bags full of pieces that just didn’t work.
Arranging the pieces onto the canvas requires the most time and effort. I have to modify them, stretch and crunch each individual piece into exactly the right shape. It's a feeling I'm looking for, and until I sense the artwork has captured it, I keep fiddling with it. Often, I'll arrange enough pieces to fill several square inches of canvas before I begin sewing them down.
Invariably I make a few runs to the yarn shop to find a missing color or texture. I particularly enjoy hand-dyed yarns. They give the piece an extra personal touch and the variegations of many hand-dyed yarns make the final product look more organic and life-like.
Often I won’t remember how a particular section appeared in my original vision. It is tempting to sweat these details. Instead, I focus on the parts of the picture that I do know. Invariably, once these are complete, another few square inches reveal themselves. In this process, I always have something to do and the artwork reveals itself gradually until it is finished. Although I may not know exactly what will go in a particular section, I nurture a feeling for the whole piece. This way the composition remains interesting.
Once every piece is sewn on, I examine every square inch to make sure all the pieces are secure. Concurrently, I look for accent colors to bring the picture to greater life. When it's time to choose the frame, I take great care searching for one that will enhance and support the artwork.
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