Do you have a particular phrase that you say before you convince yourself to do something a little foolish? Mine seems to be "how bad could it be," a statement which was uttered before I flung myself backwards onto the lawn to make a snow angel.
On the positive side, icy snow (ouch!) does hold an image pretty nicely!
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Grandparents' photo quilt (top)
DH said the quilt should be blue and brown, sort of a traditional Japanese color scheme, and masculine because it's intended to be used by his grandfather, and so it is. There are two special fabrics that I wanted to call out.
1) The ecru fabric (third from the left in the link) is the only fabric here that was actually made in Japan. It's part of the popular Daiwabo line which is based on antique Japanese prints. I wanted to use it for this reason and because (with pale blue and taupe leaves and amber-brown dots, it married the brown and blues in the quilt). The stripe in the narrow middle border and the backing were chosen to coordinate with this fabric so it wouldn't stick out too badly!
2) The deep brown border is a sunprint batik with little leaves and twigs on it. It's absolutely beautiful, and it had to be washed about 10 times before the wash water stopped leaking dye. There is a close-up here, only the color in the piece I have is ruddier, not so olive. You currently see the brown as 5 3/4"; after I sandwich the quilt, everything will get squared/trimmed up and the (black) binding will be added, so it'll end up 5" wide (same as the blocks in the body of the quilt).
Click the photo to see the larger version.
1) The ecru fabric (third from the left in the link) is the only fabric here that was actually made in Japan. It's part of the popular Daiwabo line which is based on antique Japanese prints. I wanted to use it for this reason and because (with pale blue and taupe leaves and amber-brown dots, it married the brown and blues in the quilt). The stripe in the narrow middle border and the backing were chosen to coordinate with this fabric so it wouldn't stick out too badly!
2) The deep brown border is a sunprint batik with little leaves and twigs on it. It's absolutely beautiful, and it had to be washed about 10 times before the wash water stopped leaking dye. There is a close-up here, only the color in the piece I have is ruddier, not so olive. You currently see the brown as 5 3/4"; after I sandwich the quilt, everything will get squared/trimmed up and the (black) binding will be added, so it'll end up 5" wide (same as the blocks in the body of the quilt).
Click the photo to see the larger version.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Photos for a photo quilt
Photos for the grandparents' photo quilt have been transferred - and our printer only munched up one sheet of the specially prepared fabric!
Now I have to let them sit for 24-48 hours to "cure."
Now I have to let them sit for 24-48 hours to "cure."
Friday, November 30, 2007
Wedding traditions, part 3
Yesterday I promised you that I would be touching today upon the other and most noticeable Japanese element in our wedding: the sake ritual.
The sake ritual is one of the oldest elements of the Japanese wedding ceremony, dating back to a time when sharing a sip of sake was as formal a bond as a Victorian handshake. The ritual as it is practiced today is known colloquially as the san san ku do: three [san] sets of three sips, for a total of nine times [ku do]. Starting with the smallest of three nested cups, the groom drinks a small amount of sake in three sips. The cup is then refilled and passed to the bride, who does the same. They move on to the middle cup, then to the largest. At the conclusion of the ceremony, both families drink together to signify the unification not only of the bride and groom, but of their families and traditions as well.
The sake set that is used for the ceremony, as you can tell from this description, is a very specific type. I scoured the web (pre-Google this took a bit more effort than it would today) and finally found a store in Los Angeles's Little Tokyo that had such a thing. In fact, they had two - one in red lacquer and one in black. The one we chose (lucky red, of course!), was etched with images of pine, bamboo, and plum.
At the very end of our western wedding ceremony, we had my little sister (then 10 years old), our sake maiden, pour for us. As she poured, the officiant explained the meaning of the symbols on the sake set: pine for longevity and endurance; bamboo for constancy; plum for hope. Then we walked out to our parents, poured for them, and they drank together to symbolize the joining of the families.
Afterwards, one of DH's grandmothers came up to us, beaming, and said that when she was young, she herself had served as a sake maiden at a wedding ceremony. She hadn't understood what it was all about, and had wondered many a time, but had never known for sure - until this very day.
I beamed back, too thrilled to speak.
The sake ritual is one of the oldest elements of the Japanese wedding ceremony, dating back to a time when sharing a sip of sake was as formal a bond as a Victorian handshake. The ritual as it is practiced today is known colloquially as the san san ku do: three [san] sets of three sips, for a total of nine times [ku do]. Starting with the smallest of three nested cups, the groom drinks a small amount of sake in three sips. The cup is then refilled and passed to the bride, who does the same. They move on to the middle cup, then to the largest. At the conclusion of the ceremony, both families drink together to signify the unification not only of the bride and groom, but of their families and traditions as well.
The sake set that is used for the ceremony, as you can tell from this description, is a very specific type. I scoured the web (pre-Google this took a bit more effort than it would today) and finally found a store in Los Angeles's Little Tokyo that had such a thing. In fact, they had two - one in red lacquer and one in black. The one we chose (lucky red, of course!), was etched with images of pine, bamboo, and plum.
At the very end of our western wedding ceremony, we had my little sister (then 10 years old), our sake maiden, pour for us. As she poured, the officiant explained the meaning of the symbols on the sake set: pine for longevity and endurance; bamboo for constancy; plum for hope. Then we walked out to our parents, poured for them, and they drank together to symbolize the joining of the families.
Afterwards, one of DH's grandmothers came up to us, beaming, and said that when she was young, she herself had served as a sake maiden at a wedding ceremony. She hadn't understood what it was all about, and had wondered many a time, but had never known for sure - until this very day.
I beamed back, too thrilled to speak.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wedding traditions, part 2
Our wedding celebration included a number of elements from DH's Japanese heritage as well. Our invitations had a cherry blossom motif, and we used folding fans to decorate the pews of the chapel. (Fans are symbols of the wish for future happiness and prosperity at weddings: just as the ribs of an open fan stretch out in many directions, so the couple's future unfolds before them.)
But there were two traditions that really took center stage. One was the folding of origami cranes. (The other I'll cover tomorrow.)
In Japanese-American families, it is customary to fashion lucky paper cranes for weddings. This may be due not only to the crane's association with longevity, happiness, and fidelity, but also to the belief that folding 1000 cranes will grant a wish. To make 1001 of these origami birds signifies a wish for luck "a thousand times, and then some."
Folding an individual origami crane goes pretty quickly, as you can see in this animated crane folding tutorial. Folding 1001 cranes, however, is a bit more daunting. Fortunately our mothers agreed to pitch in on the task. So we purchased packet upon packet of gold origami paper, and reconciled ourselves to devoting all of our downtime to crane making!
When the cranes were ready, we strung garlands of them from a large hoop (like the garlands of flowers and ribbons at the top of a may pole). We placed a single crane at each place setting at the reception, as an accompaniment to the chocolates we offered as favors. And even after all this, we ended up with hundreds of cranes in reserve.
Over the years, I've been tucking our wedding cranes into festive packages, and have given several batches to friends to share at their own weddings. We double the good wishes by sharing them :)
But there were two traditions that really took center stage. One was the folding of origami cranes. (The other I'll cover tomorrow.)
In Japanese-American families, it is customary to fashion lucky paper cranes for weddings. This may be due not only to the crane's association with longevity, happiness, and fidelity, but also to the belief that folding 1000 cranes will grant a wish. To make 1001 of these origami birds signifies a wish for luck "a thousand times, and then some."
Folding an individual origami crane goes pretty quickly, as you can see in this animated crane folding tutorial. Folding 1001 cranes, however, is a bit more daunting. Fortunately our mothers agreed to pitch in on the task. So we purchased packet upon packet of gold origami paper, and reconciled ourselves to devoting all of our downtime to crane making!
When the cranes were ready, we strung garlands of them from a large hoop (like the garlands of flowers and ribbons at the top of a may pole). We placed a single crane at each place setting at the reception, as an accompaniment to the chocolates we offered as favors. And even after all this, we ended up with hundreds of cranes in reserve.
Over the years, I've been tucking our wedding cranes into festive packages, and have given several batches to friends to share at their own weddings. We double the good wishes by sharing them :)
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