#Straw marquetry

[spockandawe]

Oh my gosh. This project consumed me, and for a hot minute there I wasn't sure it would work out. But I really wanted to try making a PICTURE with straw marquetry, and hm. For that I need an image with strongly blocked, highly recognizable shapes, and for preference, I'd rather not try to navigate the lumpy, holey complexities of the human face. Oh hi, transformers--

Oh man. I knew I was underestimating the difficulty of this project from the start, that's just how it goes. But the difficulty truly started with... the sketch. From the start, I wanted that perfect staring red eye, that was my one non-negotiable point. I wanted navy blue straw and a staring red eye. At first, I had dreams of a dynamic pose! However. Sketching at 21 inches tall is a whole different thing than sketching at 8 inches tall. My sketchbook's height is the width of this silly, silly thing. I thought to note what straw grain direction I wanted for the different elements too, which was a good call. The fingers were... ambitious, but hopefully unobtrusive if I messed them up.

After that, I was NOT working on a hard wood/mdf substrate and peeling of unwanted straw. I've seen the pros do that, but always cut too fast for me to understand what they're doing. So i was working somewhat similar to wood marquetry, gluing straw to paper and then cutting through the paper backing. But since it's harder to place my inlays from behind and i can't sand straw flat, here, each cutout was placed on a backing of the same blue paper to help blend my seams. I was supposed to start with the most background elements of the image and work my way forward, and immediately hecked that up. But it was working!!

It was a few good hard days of work, ahahaha. And it was really a learning process! Things like keeping my knife handle tilted towards my waste seemed pointless... Until it made my inlays noticeably easier to fit. And when I messed up the back to front order, I figured out how to cut from a combo of my overlay sheet and freehand to blend everything right! And techniques like carefully pricking the outline of a difficult shape (circles. CIRCLES.) and then cutting, that was game-changing. I stayed up way, way too late last night, but I finished!

That's an image from today, after I scrubbed him down and trimmed up all my edges. After that. I glued him to a foam back and installed him in a frame! You can see in all the photos here that the color effect is so, so dependent on lighting and angle, but the eye pops the way I hoped and the effect is everything I wanted. The frame is black but has a nice subtle metallic highlight on the corners and the narrow aspect ratio suits him so well, I'm SO delighted with how this turned out. It's the most difficult project I've done so far, and I don't know if I can handle doing this OFTEN, but I definitely want to do it again!!

[puttain]

Le Style Frank, not sure whether this is a genuine JMF interior or another imitator using genuine pieces.

[itscolossal]

Lavish Scenes Glorify the Female Figure in Olivia De Bona’s Straw Marquetry

[watchilove]

Maison des Métiers d'Art: Cartier’s Tribute to Timeless Craftsmanship (Métiers d’Art Straw and Gold Marquetry Panther, Ronde Louis Cartier Zebra and Giraffe, Crocodile Jewelry)

[seaqul]

straw marquetry

[picturesofthegoneworlds]

For one word prompts, I'm finally seeing some green in my garden again, so: Sage?

Oh, of course you know how to appeal to me. I hope this brings the vibes <3 ~

There was a variety of sage (still is, most likely) - sanctified – a herb that they would dry hanged from the rafters and tie into bundles like broomstick bristles, its own fibrous stem knotted in noose around the neck and ankles of the bale, burnt at the stakes and raised pitchforks to sweep away the wicked.

The smoke was what woke her, herbaceous floral distress signal, thrown through the open (paneless) window, accompanied by salt and circle.

They hoped to lure her out the front ‘door’ - she concluded with groggy post-dream clarity - strategized to trap her between saline force field and stone and mortar.

She stumbled over herself, gathered her few possessions. In time shorter the flames carpeted the threshing covering the floor, climbed into her bed to alight the straw stuffing the mattress, exorcised from there to cross exposed rafters to the mossy thatching comprising the roof-

She left through the vacant fireplace.

From a distance fled she observed the thick grapevine coiling of smoke as it billowed out above the forest canopy from a chimney that had crumbled decades ago.

Fire-licked masonry, tattered and scorched fabrics. Perhaps their malice left the cabin more befitting, well-suited, paralleled - outfitted in ash grey skin and soot ichor stains. The hunting party retreated but she could not return. She wondered who would take up residence in the hollow shell - as such a body must be an invite, must be a vessel (at least that was a lesson she was soon to learn) - but who would cohabitate with the spiders, birds, and other small mammals?

The thick smoke filtered through the pines

All of her grievances aside (packed away once again with her bedroll and cauldron), it smelt rather wonderful-

~

There was another sage (surely must be, still) - common - cultivated in window boxes and allotments, the leaves torn to marinade meats, to infuse healing balms, unbiased towards the dead or the living, transmuting itself for both in order to permeate soft tissue.

Laudna would grab handfuls of the silver-furred leaves; amass them in pocket-lint-lined-bundles of potpourri. Crushed the sage between her fingers, rubbed it on her pulse points, tied it with red twine dried in parcels of cheesecloth that she decorated around her person. Loose in her coin pouch, trinkets, her spell component satchel too, sewn into Pâté’s stuffing, flattened behind her belts and tucked into the front of her bodice and trampled in the soles of her shoes-

Never sure if it was necessity or in her head, not like when she wore flushing and sweating flesh, saturated, awkward teenager dealing with the stubborn stench of puberty or drenched in the fragrance of a farm-girl-butcher’s-daughter composting straw manure and coagulated pigs’ blood –

-not the perfume of The Ladies, certainly, refined with their age, aged mahogany liquor barrel vintage sophisticated palate, finery of silks satin lace velvet layers stored in lacquered marquetry hardwood armoires and mausoleum-sized wardrobes, aired in gilded vase and bouquet’ed marble surroundings, chandeliers ornately framed paintings in alabaster hallways-

She would feel rather self-conscious of it; of her differences - but continued her play with the worms in the forest regardless.

Then, for a short time, she slept with them.

Or rather, she woke to fall onto a heap moving with them, dancing drunken room-spin carpet shag pile of maggots and flies and mosquitoes and pillows of other larvae unidentified, turning familiar faces into fertiliser.

She was not sure if it was the memory, or the actual (un)working order of things

Permanently rotting 

Hard to smell past the end of a decomposing nose

Perhaps it wasn’t so hard to tell for others?

Every time she passed the plant she filled her pockets and hands - ironically unaware of how time had stilled, that she was embalming herself - hoping it would fight the trauma-ever-present smell, that she could throw off the(ir) scent.

~

There is a sage that blooms violet throughout the summer - wild - like early humid evenings with head thrown back in laughter and perspiration jeweling tanned neck, clouds underlit and voluminous as purple-sunset tousled hair.

Imogen points it out with inquisition; at the gatherings of spears of blossoms lanced into soil growing not far from the bank of a river in the sun-bleached and crunching-under-foot tall grasses of an open field.

Seeds from dried out flower heads are carried along the docile breeze, ashes falling in hazing-heat ground fog, smithing dandelion diamond rings to decorate the fingers of the willows that lazily wave, bid farewell to the jewellery that doesn’t fit, allowing it to marry elsewhere between clumps over the grass and charms accumulated at the banks of the gently moving river.

“D’ya know what this is? Smells good.”

She kneels down with her palm held open to the purple blooming sage, presentory, skin offering the tan lines above her knees exposed from the displacement of the tops of her tall leather boots, a dandelion seed catching in the mass of her mane like a feather, her hand not designated to indicating specimen shading above one of her eyes squinted shut and the corner of her mouth raised baring teeth as she looks to Laudna with the midday sun over her shoulder.  

It’s a bit overwhelming, the life and the bliss it elicits.

Laudna walks the few paces over to her, gives a quick inspection with the cast of her shadow.

Smiles in familiarity, nods to the plant in greeting

“Would you like to try it?”

Imogen starts the fire, uses the abundance of dried grasses as kindling. It smells just like the burning cottage had, does so every time. Laudna prunes the wild sage, gathering toothed leaves and small violet petals into her wicker basket, rolls the fragranced stems between the pads of her fingers and inhales, implores the herbal scent to momentarily mask the memory of deterioration as it once had. Imogen sets up the frame for hanging the cauldron, drives the iron spikes into the dry ground, fills it from the river, has to submerge her hand into the gathered water, fingers tweezers removing errant dandelion parachutes that she wipes onto her gauzy dress skirt, skin glistening with the cascading droplets that intuitively follow the scarring of her lightning marks and drip onto the floor, where a lizard with skin like stones flees under the weave of the trodden grass once her footfall returns, retreats for safer ground. Laudna questions whether it will turn to watch the fire or let instinct tell it to keep running-

“You’re quiet…”

Imogen states, offers a softened and upturned corner of her mouth.

Another feather of an airborne seed lands in her hair. A warning arrow shot through the window and puncturing her pillow, innards flying-

“I seem to be having a reflective day, sorry.”

 “Anythin’ you wanna share?”

Imogen wears her empathetic apology in her brow, strained, and Laudna isn’t sure of how legible abstract memories are to her, if the furrow is from an attempt at unknotting the tangles, mostly it feels a weight too unquantifiable to know what to share with intention.

“Not now. I think this is good, something new.”

Present is good, a gift, shared (willingly, in part).

“I don’t dislike it…”

Imogen declares, staring into her cup as she swirls its contents under inquisitive-eyed assessment.

“It sounds like you are warming up for a caveat there.”

She pauses, holds the pottery between her hands on her lap.

“I’m not, s’just new. Tea back home was mostly black and made with lemons and alotta honey or sugar; was cold if the occasion were special-” she tucks her hair behind her ear as her eyes read the pattern of the blanket they had laid over the floor. Laudna wonders if there were birthday parties on picnic blankets out in the paddocks, waited by her father, Imogen and her childhood friends drinking sweet tea and running around in daisy crowns “-I guess we had other teas, but they were more for if y’all were sick?”

She doesn’t like to think of that.

The birds and the crickets carry on their background accompaniment, Imogen's hand returning to the other cradling the cup. Laudna feels as though she can see the slow turn of the skin on her exposed thighs from bronzed tan to sun-kissed red, convinced she is observing the freckles multiplying.

“This one is supposed to be good for anxiety.”

Imogen scoffs, it causes a nearby bird in the brush to scatter

“Yeah? Well I’ll report back on that - maybe we should take more with us just in case.”

Laudna laughs agreeably, enthusiastic. She knows how to make plenty of room for sage.

To follow the tea she also makes them a salad with the plant’s greens; a field-foraged thing prepared with borage and dandelion leaves, fleshed out with wild strawberries, a little olive oil and a little cider vinegar, served in a wooden bowl. 

finishes the assemblage with an intentionally random flecking of the wild sage's violet petals, as though the bowl is a miniature diorama of the meadow in which they sit, olive oil babbling brook and cast iron fork fallen-tree bridge ready to present on a plinth, garden plans proposed by the landscaper in the study to a snooty gent stroking his chin and um-ing and ah-ing -

the hidden door that was disguised behind ornate wooden panelling, adjoining the ransacked and emptied floor to ceiling shelves of the study via dark stone corridors to the equipped and practical, cell-like laboratory- 

She thinks that was the layout, at least - worries who she will rouse if she thinks too hard on it. There is comfort in the answer being left immaterial.

“All’a those times I was sittin’ in fields of flowers, I never really thought I could be eatin’ them.”

It is so nice to have someone she adores break up her ruminations.

“You had a lot of quality produce, there wasn’t really the need.”

"I guess not. Honestly, I think I prefer the salad to the tea." 

Imogen licks her teeth, reveals a violet petal plastered over incisor that she shortly removes with a blade-of dry-grass toothpick, re-places the petal on the flat of her tongue, rolling it around her mouth and swallowing it. 

Laudna stares.

"You like the flowers?" she finds herself leaning towards Imogen. Wants to tell her that for years this one was her perfume - pomanders adorned and concealed in tattered layers.

“They’re purple, ‘course I do.” she giggles, resting sat cross-legged with her weight behind her on her palms. Her head rolls towards Laudna, leaves their foreheads almost resting against one another, Laudna able to count each individual eyelash.

Purple, like the deep undertones of her hair. That much Laudna was very aware of.

“I should have guessed that that would be what caught your attention.” She brings her hand up and wraps her bony index finger in a ringlet of Imogen's hair.

“More like your magic, I was thinkin’…” She drawls, tenor lowered and breathy. 

“And the taste?”

Imogen visibly swallows, cheeks flushing a further tint than what the sun has already given - it makes Laudna feel overly aware of the networking of her own heart and veins.

Imogen clears her throat

"’s’good - kinda familiar."

Laudna feels overwhelmed by the compelling need to kiss her - so she does. Her hand with finger still tied in ringlets of hair sprawling over Imogen's chest as she responds with a squeaked moan that reverberates underneath it. Her lungs halt in their expansion as her mouth is sealed with her own, the increasing pulse at the base of her neck decipherable carved runes under the tip of her fingers, her heart thudding against her palm.

Familiar. Laudna can muse on that in the future, certainly.

She sits back from Imogen - already breathless and chest heaving, lips kiss-swollen - and appreciates the sight she helped curate; the picture of her looking a little dazed on their tartan blanket with the surrounding flora densely reaching above her shoulders, crowned in multi-coloured paint strokes.

“Familiar? And here I thought that was your first time eating a flower.”

Causes her to blush furiously

“Don’t you use ma’words against me.” She pushes Laudna playfully at her shoulder, pretends to look away in dissatisfaction, bottom lip pouting.

“I apologise, that is your advantage to keep. My words are but humble ammunition for your armoury.” Laudna exaggeratedly plays acting pious at Imogen’s half-turned back, Imogen turning back to her with one eyebrow raised and a laugh she is clearly trying to keep within her stomach murmuring at the corners of her lips.

"That so? Well alright, how would y’all describe it?" 

She puffs out air towards her head, hairs previously put behind her ear falling back out of (or into, depending on which of them you ask) place, sits forward again, arms folded. Adorable. Laudna is aware of how susceptible Imogen is to her teasing, always so charming and charismatic, and so often a bumbling mess - and it is intoxicating - to exercise any sort of outcome on such a gifted sorceresses’ disposition, is doing her best to learn what the differences and distinctions are between that and her own longer ongoing situation…

Focus.

Despite the more imposing associations, she can still remember

Can still remember her father butchering the pig, her mother in the kitchen slicing its fatty flesh into patchwork diamonds, stuffing the incised indents with sage and garlic and other seasonings, the slab of flesh tied with butcher’s twine around a whole peeled onion and roasted, skin crackling, the three of them sat around the oak table, talking about the small things, Laudna's mother showing off the basket Laudna had weaved that day, presented like a cornucopia on the kitchen table top, holding that weeks offering of vegetables.

She would describe it as herbaceous, sweet, and floral. Peppery, perhaps like a minty aniseed. Earthy. Mulchy. Rich as the soil it grew from. Could also admit to it being 'like the first home I'd made burning down, like the incense I'd crush between my palms and rub behind my ears so as to not offend any people who would be so kind as to get close enough to notice the death’

what she does say is

"nostalgic." 

not a lie - though she hopes in futures she won’t be drowned marinating in it, the complex layering of all of the ingredients and flavours, hopes one can remain dominant, bountiful and nourishing.

Imogen there, seen over the end of a nose that did not rot and fall off. She’s sure that it can change.

[rossisimon]

The Craftsmanship Excellence Fair

Last weekend, the weather was great, and I didn’t really know what to do with my Saturday. In moments like these, I ask my mom what she plans to do with her day.

She told me that she was going to a fair showcasing the best craftsmanship in France. She explained to me that she had been waiting for this day for months and that I absolutely had to go with her. It was the first edition and I was very curious to see what it would be like.

First of all, the location was incredible : it was on the Boulevard des Italiens in the 2nd arrondissement. The fair was in the historic headquarters of the LCL bank, a Haussmannian building listed as a French historical monument. It’s normally closed to the public but was open for the fair. Just walking into this historic building was already amazing but it was nothing compared to what I was about to discover inside.

Then, when we entered the gallery, we discovered 70 craftsmen displaying their work and skills. Each stand had two parts :  one showing a major piece of art and the other with samples we could touch. But what made it extraordinary was that the craftsmen were there in person, so I could ask them all the questions I wanted.

There were all kinds of craftsmen : glassmakers, marble workers, ceramists, and more. But one craft that really stood out to me was straw marquetry. Even before I understood what it was, I found it incredible. It’s an art that’s very precise, with a shiny finish and stunning colors. When I talked to the craftsman, I found it even more fascinating. They take colored straws, split them in half, and flatten them. Then they create designs by gluing and cutting these flattened pieces of straw. With this technique, they can cover many objects, like boxes or even book covers, which gave me ideas for a future publishing project.

In conclusion, I would say that this fair was an amazing discovery for me. I learned about so many crafts and craftsmen, and it gave me tons of ideas for projects. Finally, I’d like to thank my mom for taking me there, because I probably wouldn’t have gone there on my own.

[justbysheyda]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 1960 Rice Straw Tiny Marquetry Lidded Box.

[cosmicanger]

Ala Savashevich, Ladies II, 2023

straw marquetry

19.6 × 8.6 inches

[artistmichaelm]

Lavish Scenes Glorify the Female Figure in Olivia De Bona’s Straw Marquetry

ArtNews http://dlvr.it/Sp4Tvk See More at: https://artistmichaelm.tumblr.com

[spockandawe]

A new project: Devil Venerable Also Wants To Know! Oh man, so I've been leveling up in straw marquetry as fast as I possibly could. And it was VERY much with this goal in sight. Maybe not this book specifically, but my intention has been very much to bring this back around to books! And this one had a LOVELY vibe to go with the story, there's something so magnificent about Wenren È et al, this was a great vibe match for the story. I started reading this in 2021, stalled for some reason, and I'm SO glad I came back now!

Especially as more and more of my faves get official licenses, those serve great as practical books, and I get more freedom to make my preservations of fan translations an extravagant expression of my love for the story and work that went into translating that. I got into this hobby assuming none of these novels would ever get official translations, so it's definitely something I've given a lot of consideration to over the last few years, and I think this set articulates it really well!

And oh man. I knew this was ambitious, but I still flew PRETTY darn close to the sun. I set this up so that each character had a nominal inch to work with, felt good about it, then opened up font previews for the text and immediately broke into a cold sweat. But with patience and lots of fresh knife blades, I got there! Cutting these pieces took some delicate wrangling, assembling them took more, and after all that, I still had to finish the cases and case in the books. But I made it work, and man, I think it really, really paid off

Did I tape my very first cutting template upside down? Don't worry about it!

And I was pleased with the straw marquetry on its own, but I have to say that attaching the boards for the cases took my delight ALL the way up to the next level. The effect is everything I could have dreamed of, which is amazing for a story that I loved so much. This is 1000% something I need to repeat, and it will probably take more practice before I reach the level I dream of, but SOMEDAY I'm gonna be doing pictorial straw marquetry on book covers. I might take a detour to more wall projects, and inlays with other materials, but soon! It's coming! And in the meantime, I'm so excited to share this with you, I think it turned out absolutely fabulous

[notwhelmedyet]

Finished my first two practice panels of straw marquetry! it’s such a pain to do, especially cutting all those fiddly corner pieces. I was longing for a cricut machine when I was cutting the damned Hunters Star pattern, but the end effect really is 😍

[alliance-dessences]

Et finalement le petit dernier de cette collection de tableaux autour des insectes. J'ai vraiment apprécié faire cette petite collection et j'aimerais savoir si à l'avenir genre faisait quelles seraient vos insectes ou petite créature que vous aimeriez voir dans ce style. sachez que vous allez bientôt pouvoir les retrouver en boutique. 🐛 Si ce genre de creation vous plait n'hésitez pas à me contacter, et surtout si vous aimez mon travail n'hésitez pas à le partager ou à marquer le nom d'un ami susceptible de l'aimer Ambiance cabinet de curiosité cruelty free 🐝🐞🐜🐛 #govegan #straw #marqueterie #marquetry #strawmarquetry #marqueteriedepaille #savoir faire #handmadecraft #network #metiersdart #madeinfrance #artisanat #savoirfairefrancais #ateliers #décoration #artisant #créations #artisanatfrancais #artisanatdart #caninetdecuriosités #insectes #insect #walldecor (à Lille, France) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsiotFmAkW-/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=11np8srb123bo

[ltwilliammowett]

French Prisoner-of-War bone and ebony models of a ship of the line and twi frigates in their original straw marquetry and glass case early 19th century

[whiteantcrawls]

This is broom straw marquetry. The surface decoration is made with dyed broom straw (usually corn), with each tiny narrow piece laid and glued individually in place on a wooden surface. This blows me away. The luminosity of the straw on its own is just amazing, and such clear deep colors!

Thanks @danskjavlarna for this post that got me digging into other examples of this. Amazing intersection of mosaic, wood working, dying, design, furniture making, inlay work, etc.