Things I've made out of old T shirts.

Step one.

Get yourself the comfiest t-shirt you own. It helps if it's too crappy to wear on the regular. Or Just one you're over. I'm siphoning out my 'joke' shirts. In an attempt to grow up. Dammit.
Gather your scissors, sewing machine and pattern. Along with some cheap elastic. You're about to be killing it in the underwear department.



Step two.

Pin your pattern to the T.











Step three.

Cut it out!








Step four.

I've realized I cannot fully explain exactly what to do without video or some serious blueprint type pictures... So I'm going to keep my head down and run right through it. While sewing the pattern together (not including the elastic) you can use the ol' straight stitch.



Sew the side of the crotch (ha!) pieces together and then to one side of the main piece. Then to have the proper side of the material showing you have to roll the fabric up into the crotch (ha!) piece.










Step five.

Sew in the deepest most intimate part of the crotch (ha!)








Step six.


For a 34 inch waist you need only 29 inches of elastic. So it' stays up and You don't have to take up a trade. It's best to use new elastic. Old stuff will stretch out immediately and you'll be showing off pubic hair like a 60s star.





Step seven.

Sew the ends of the elastic together by using a straight stitch at first, then fold the ends back and use a zig-zag or 3 step zig-zag to secure it. The zig-zag stitch can stretch so the thread doesn't break, leaving your edges unfinished and crappy. Underwear is not meant to be crappy. *pause*






The trick is, only pin 4 corners and stretch the elastic out as you attatch it to the fabric.





Step eight.


Finish the edges along the bottom by folding it over once and use a zig-zag stitch. Then strike a pose.









Here are the others I've made. I'm pretty happy with the results. These home-made pairs are my favourites of my underepetoire. And It's a never ending supply! As underwear is on the way out, as are the T-shirts. It's a vicious cycle.





















The blue ones were my first attempts using old elastic and learning quickly. The brown and dark blue are my attempt to customize. I Cut mylar plastic out with an exacto and just used fabric paint. They look rather bad... But hell. I'm not Miss J. Or Even Dr. J.


Yesterday I attempted to raid and rid. Raid my closet and drawers and rid myself of useless items. My gosh is it difficult. I would love to have a house fire something equally monumental that would result is starting my situation over from scratch. It's not that I'd do it much different. I'd just like a reason to throw away things I want to keep... If you follow. For instance. I've got T-shirts from old improv teams I've been on or coached and I don't want to get rid of them, they hold so many incredible(ly lame) memories. I'm not about to get them framed and mounted, but I'm also not going to make them into ass-gear.

It's the same with objects. In my direct line of sight, I can see old art, souveneirs from trips, a gift from my ninth birthday and other random shit like that fanny pack I sport sometimes and my Liquor teat. Pens, books, CDs, papers of all kinds, a plaster mold of my teeth, scraps of material, wax, earplugs, seat belts, candles, half finished/begun projects... Ad infinitum.

I realize this looks a lot like the last meaty post I made... So I'm going to end this train of thought with this: I need an intervention. Something or someone to remind me that no matter how long I keep something It will not become anymore useful or valuable enough to have it take up room in my room/life. Having said that, why did I pick up that pile of 40 archie comics from the 70s on the way home the other night...?

Because stuff is cool. It's fun to play with for awhile. I just need to grasp when it wears out it's welcome.

Please disregard this as I will not proof read it.

new colour...?

White is the new blank.

Wood things I've made.

Here I am watching Dragon's den (way to be CBC) and I'm getting all emotional about making things. Due to the fact that it's 2:30am and I've already done a project tonight I'm not about to start making something. Not to mention the fact that I have a breakfast date tomorrow...

But I can flex my exhibitionism by showing a few pictures.

This is a desk I made for myself from scrap wood in the back. As well as a peice of plexiglass so I can put photos and the like underneath. I always loved my family coffee table for that feature.

A little while ago I put together a few things for an art show. In essence the theme was 'old'. I decided to make chalkboards. Here are a few shots of my brother and I working on them. (I never take enough pictures...)

Two scissor designs. One cutting tool that makes a sound that is insane.

Donald my youngest brother giving me a hand sanding the edges of my apple before I paint. See the pencil sharpener...? Once it was painted it's a bit hard to make out. I sold the apple and scissors, but the pencil sharpener stays with me. (I've got more on the way)

Apple!

Scissors!

Another feeling I'm hit with tonight is a fondness for my roomies. I've been contemplating the imminent departure of my oldest and dearest roommate, James. He's Got the fever and is making moves in the right direction... Well east anyway.

I moved into this house and made it my home in November of last year. I was hesitant but mostly excited to get out of my father's house (for the second time). I took my things back into pa's house after I was made to leave the apartment I was occupying... With my now 'ex' girlfriend. But I digress. In coming here, I gained more space than I had at dad's house. It's not like he was a tyrant or that it was a box in an alley, it was more a matter of having to deal with his possessions. I wish I had photographic evidence to show what I had to deal with. It's a tale in itself which I'd gladly tell. I literally (literally) had only a wide enough path through the basement to get to my room. Now I can annoy my roomies by leaving my things everywhere! I have my pop to thank for that habit I suspect.

To put it in the simplest terms, my time at the mansion has been good. I've been considering the disposable nature of our lives. We don't buy albums, we download and google the cover art. We don't invite our friends over to look at slides, we sit and cycle through semi-strangers' photos alone. And what happens when my computer implodes and creates a black hole devouring the earth? No more pics! golly!

I have an idea. A big idea. An idea that requires me to use the word more than once in very small scentences and then one large one. Time capsule. No lie. I'm pumped for this idea. and enthusiastic, but not enough to stay awake past 4am... Breakfast in five and a half hours...

I met Chris Walter before you met Chris Walter

yeah, him

He was in the airport looking normal... Except of course for the scalp tattoo.

this too:

I just had a neat idea.

See above.
There is a monthly party I like to attend. they're put on by my good pals. More formally and to strangers it's known as the 'hot rocks party consortium' (are they known..?) It's a combo dance party and reason to make art, then sell it to the party goers. I made some stuff for the first party, I missed the second and the third installment is quickly approaching. I'm pumped. Especially having missed the second. Since I'm thinking about it and this thing has taken a turn for the textiles. check these out. I made them (I made a bunch, but didn't take pictures... I didn't realize they would all sell.)

This is a straight shot of one of the more boring poses... One's up top and the other's on the far right.

I'm really excited for my new idea. Really excited. If you're nice to me, and really prose up the request... I may tell you what I'm planning. Probably not. Because if it doesn't work out, I'll look like a fool.
The only hint I can give you is that the theme of this party is: 'spirited energy, the revenge of the oldies.'
aka. Old people. aka grand-people.
***condensed version of hint: Old school***

For-Tiff-eyed

This is a post dedicated to the late great T. I was accosted in the street tonight for not having written anything... ever really. I suppose I was asking for it. I was dressed like a slut. A while ago I knew in my bones what I wanted this to be all about, but it took two cups time and 1 dash of commitment on my part. I will be chronicling my efforts in material creations. I've not yet taken the pictures of a few of my projects, but here is the first in a line of many more to come.

The Ironic Pillow.

I was packing for a trip to easter island and as I was filling my bag with my tent, enough underwear and my camera... I recalled my last camping trip was lacking a very useful object. A pillow! I thought fondly of how I had (misguidedly) rolled my pants up and ended up with my face on the floor anyway.

Since I rarely sleep before a trip (yes even little jaunts to t.o) I knew I had some time on my hands and the materials to throw something together. I'll begin at the beginning.


This was my favourite shirt. I made it with my friend Kjartan one day when we were feeling like having special T-shirts. It matches a tattoo on my chest in that same location. But notice if you will a burn hole at the very bottom of the picture... It's like my hopes and dreams burnt up in that fateful bonfire.

As I love making things out of old T-shirts (more to come) I decided this may be the best idea in the world. A pillow that condemns sleep?! Who has the audacity? me.


Now, I'm not really a stickler for invisible seams and the like. I enjoy seeing the thread. So when I mended the hole I chose my favourite colour from the age of 6 to 21. Green. If you're not savy on how to repair a hole, I think this is a good way to do it. It's stronger to cover a larger area than the hole because there's less pressure on all the stitches. Like laying on a bed of nails. It's a 3 part zig zag stitch at 2.5 length.


Next in lieu of cutting it out like a dummy, I just pinned the area I wanted to cut and sewed it right on the like of pins, removing them as I went along. I feel it guarantees that you don't end up with mismatched material the the end of a stitch (if you're not paying attention. Which I sometimes do not do) NB. You may notice It's also inside out. This makes a nice seam when you turn it right side out. But everyone knows that.

In retrospect, I should have taken more pictures while I was doing this. I missed a shot of it half full of stuffing and vulnerable to the wild.


This is a corner, showing the finished seam. I decided to make another pass to have a nice cohesive look on every side of the pillow. On the one end where it was still open to fill with stuffing, I folded the fabric in and it turned out just like the other sides. beauty! You can see on the left side a hint of the first pass peeking through.


And this is the finished product. So white! Not for long I'm sorry to report. I returned to my tent on evening to find things in a bit of disrepair, not to mention a dirty pillow! I suspect one of the dogs from the site got in and took a look around. Nothing was missing... just messing.

I hope this was interesting. I know I enjoyed putting it together. There are few things better than an opportunity to listen to music and create something. Except perhaps listening to music rolling along on two wheels... More to come on many things. Maybe a bit more on my trip, my bike and my other sewing projects.

That's Right. A Wide Eyed Longfellow I Said.

There was a time somewhere in between the ending of winter and the beggining of the rest of my life, when I took the bus on the regular. I was riding regularly enough to nessecitate a monthly pass. Of course I didn't ever purchase said pass. I felt in a way it was a form of selling out... I suppose. Admitting you ride the bus is the first step in riding the bus. The second is literally stepping on the bus.

On chilly mornings while I listened to something that lent itself to contemplation, I found myself thinking what I thought were profound thinkings, I think.

There is a bus stop 1 minute away from my home. It's positioned on a main route, whereas I live on a side street that runs parralel with it. The stop is on the other side of a set of buildings. So everyday I go to the stop it is effectively 'revealed' once I round the corner of which ever building I round the corner of.

(Side note: Walking past the laundry room of an apartment building in winter is like a walking past a large fan in the summer. But you also get that nice warm laundry smell as well.)

I am human. There I said it. Some days I'm late. Some days I sweat it. On these days when I dart from my back door, jump the last few stairs and don't look accross the street, I'm always eager for that 'reveal'ing moment. When I finally clear the last brick wall and the sign atop the pole is in view. That's when I know if I should keep running or slow down before I brashly dash into the thrashing trashffic. It's only then I'll see if someone else is waiting for the bus I want. If there's a people there, I have nothing to fear. The bus has not come and I will catch it. If there isn't a people there, then my eyes launch to the left to potentially see the lumbering frame of the bus chugging off, out of reach. Then to the right, to hopefully see the wide eyed longfellow on it's way. That's right. A wide eyed longfellow I said.

This made me think of back in the day before the invent of modern mining equipment. When we used canaries to their full potential and put them in cages in mines until they died. They were placed there to serve as a signal to miners. Should the canary die before it's time, it meant the air quality was poor and those damn dirty miners should run in a way that is effecient, outwards. A man waiting for the bus for me, is the same as a canary in a cage for a miner. They signify that everything will be ok. You can relax. But if either of them aren't there, you're in trouble. At least a miner could eat that canary. I'll get to work late and hungry.

This is fun for a minute.