Ch-ch-changes

In an effort to take my sewing skills to another level I have embraced the art of hand stitching.

Everything changes: the thread, the awl used to make holes in the leather, and most importantly, the mentality. The beauty of hand-stitching is that the boundaries become broader. You are not limited to the capacity of the sewing machine and of course you are free to take your projects anywhere. I have always preferred heavy thread aesthetically, and it is difficult and often costly to find machines that will accommodate heavier threads. I battled with the machine that I had been using since I always insisted on using heavier thread, needless to say, I did not always win and had to restitch many samples as a result.

These change purses were my first attempts using this new skill. The first part of the process is to punch holes in the leather. I made a line on the perimiter of the leather with a compass to use as a guide for a straight line, and then punctured the leather using an awl that has a diamond-shaped point. I did not use anything to guide the distance between the holes, and surprisingly my stitches turned out to be relatively equidistant. I have been told that this precision comes with time so I think I am off to a pretty good start. The diamond-shape on the awl gives a natural groove in which the threads of a stitch can enter. When pulled taut, the threads create a straight stitch in alignment with the grooves. I had previously used a puntorollo, which creates a normal round hole thus causing the threads to overlap.

In order to finish the underside I used a chain-braid effect.

Although it is time consuming, I absolutely love hand-stitching. A seam that would take minutes on the machine takes three times as long by hand, but it is definitely worth the time and effort. As we say in Italian, "vale la pena".

The next chapter has officially begun.

Paris is always a good idea.

I took the overnight train to Paris last week. Upon my arrival at the station in Firenze I came across this couple. They must've been in their early twenties, and they were waiting for their train to Vienna. If you look closely you can see that the girl (right) is holding a flowerpot with a freshly budding flower.

I was just as mesmerized watching these two play with their sticks in the puddle as they were with the game they were playing.

The perfect portrait of a Parisian family on a Sunday afternoon. Note the boy second from left, with his pants tucked into his riding boots.

I love Paris.