DIY: A Kandinsky-Inspired Dress, Part 1

I have officially gone off the DIY deep-end. I mean, I always knew I had a lil bit of trouble with focus  (if you read any of my posts for more than five minutes AND are able to follow the three different tangents I have constantly running, you deserve some sorta metal. Although metals are overrated, doncha think? You deserve a lifetime of chocolate. Or maybe a chocolate metal! Which, by the way, I don't recommend wearing on a hot day. Cuz people look at you real funny like when you're caught licking melty brown stains off your clothes. Not that THAT'S ever happened to ME. Ahem.) Er, wait. What was I talking about?! Oh, yeah. Focus. Or lack thereof, in this case.

At last count, I had about a dozen DIY's in progress. I keep starting another one then another one then, you guessed er, another-freakin-one. It's pretty much ridiculous. But when I get an idea, especially one that I'm excited about, I get this urge to start it right away. You know, before the excitement fades and I never get around to creating. So, like, I've got 99 craft projects but a completed one ain't 1. Well, that is, until this weekend when I forced myself to sit down, focus for more than five minutes and finish this Kandinsky-inspired number.

I was inspired to make a Kandinsky-dress for a coupla reasons. Our local art museum, The Frist Center for Visual Arts is having a great big exhibit of dude's work this fall/winter and I plan to take the kids field trippin'. Ole Kan's also been one of our weekly Artist Inspirations and an influence on some of our Dot Day projects. He's, like, kinda a big deal in my art room. So, despite a kindergartener telling me today, "Mrs. Stephens, you have too many art dresses!", I decided to make Kandinsky's Composition VIII into a dress.

Now, y'all might recall that last school year, I got it in my big-fat-Bump-it-wearing-head that I should make an artist-inspired dress a month. Before I go any further with this Kandinsky-can-can, I thought I'd (re)share these lil numbers with ya. 

My very first ever art-inspired dress was that Hokusai Great Wave number. Then I scored some splatter-tastic fabric online and stitched up that Jackson-Pollock frock on the right.

One of my fave ways to alter a dress is with appliqué. For both of these dresses, I cut out the letters/shapes, attached them to the fabric with a wee bit of Stitch Witchery (which is like iron-on glue for fabric) and then used an appliqué stitch around the edges. I'm not gonna lie, stitching the Warhol dress was a huge drag but the Magritte birds were a snap. 

These two dresses, like the one I'm sharing today, were needle felted. And I think that spending a coupla back to back hours hunched my Kandinsky dress could explain the unpleasant pain I've had in my neck all day (hello and thank you, Advil). That Starry Night light up number took a while but The Scream took For-Eve-RRR. I really was screamin' for mercy in the end.

But enough about all that, let's talk about this wackiness, ermkay? So I'm kinda on this 80's revival kick right now. All the fun and funky florescent clothing and accessories I've been seeing around lately have really been makin' me happy. Not to mention inspiring me. So when I got the sudden notion that I needed a Composition VIII dress, I drug the hubs down to ole Target, snagged this dress and that belt from the clearance rack and set to work. 

Now, usually, I just create what I like to refer to as "Reverse Mullet Dress"es. You know, party in the front, all biznatch in the back. Howevers, with this dress, I had to make it 360 crazy. I mean, there's just so much happening in that Kandinsky painting...and I wanted to include it all. However, when doing so, I had to be very careful with what shapes I placed near the rear. I mean, I didn't want some huge target on my tush. I don't need to tempt the kids to take aim on me anymore than they might be inclined to, know-what-I'm-sayin?

Oh, that Kandinsky. Do you know the guy didn't take up painting until he was, like, 30? That's about the same time I took up sewing. And look! He became "the Father of Abstract Painting" and I became, um, "that Crazy Lady who Dresses Weird." 

Oh! Here's a lil look at the dress before. It is a lil on the short side so that's part of the reason I'm wearing the crinoline underneath. I'll probably wear a black t-shirt under the dress when I wear it to school so as not to frighten the children with my bat wings.

Now I've shared with ya all the deets of needle felting before (and if you need a refresher, you can visit here) so I won't go into it too much. I did my usual trick of sketching out my design in chalk before attaching with the wool roving.

Hubs walked in and was all, "why are you using such a small tool? Don't they make bigger ones?" I told him yes AND that they also make a needle-felting-MACHINE! "Why don't you have one?!"...um, because you've not bought it for me yet, I replied while batting my eyes. All I got was a "huh". So much for that idea! I really do need to upgrade my needle tool though. Geesh.

So much for following my lines. I mean, I really coulda gone without drawing them. It is abstract. I don't know why I was trying to be such a stickler. 

Yay! Kandinsky-ness, complete! But, even before this dress was done, I got the grand idea for THIS NEXT Kandinsky dress:

That's right. In true "oh, look, squirrel!" fashion, I got the idea for this dress, shoved Composition VIII to the floor and dove into felting this guy. I just happened to have this little black thrifted dress in the back of my closet waiting to be DIY'ed. Now, the only prob I've found with felting this dress is making it so it doesn't look like a dress of areolas, ya know? Like, ew.

And there you have it! Another artist dress complete. I cannot wait to be the giant dork that I am and wear this to the Kandinsky exhibit. Cuz you know I totally will. Until next time, y'all!

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DIY: The "Uh, Are You an Art Teacher?" Ensemble

The other night I was meeting up with a group of non-art-teacher buddies (yes, I have those. Two, actually, thank ya vury much) for dinner. I was just coming from my first day back at school so I was in my normal art teacherin' garb. Paint palette in mah hair, pencil-y shoes, some sort of embarrassingly obvious art teacher dress...you know, the norm. When I wear this wacky tackiness, I honestly don't think twice about it. In fact, I often forget that I look rather ridiculous. My non-art-teacher buddies, however, never forget. 

NATB: When we go out, people seriously look at you funny.

Clueless Me: No they don't!  

NATB: Um, yes they do. It's like they are trying to decide, "Is this a crazy person? Does she realize there are crayons in her hair and she's out in public?!" And you don't even notice!

Okay, so I totally thought this was bogus until yesterday. I got it in my big fat art-teacherin head that I needed to create some miniature art supplies. I'd seen some amazing ones here (gah, y'all! This artist must have magical fairy fingers!) and was totes inspired. So I ran to the nearest big box craft shop and loaded up on Sculpey. When I got up to the register, I realized I didn't have my teacher ID for a discount. Then this went down:

Me: I'm sorry, I don't have my school ID. Can I please get a teacher discount?

Not-Looking-Up-From-Scanning-Countless-Sculpey-Blocks Check Out Chick: You have to be a teacher.

Me: I am a teacher, I promise! I just left my ID at school. 

Still-Preoccupied Check Out Chick: I'm sorry but I don't have any way of knowing if you're really a teacher. 

Me (remembering my convo with NATB): Look at me.

Check Out Chick, startled: Huh? Oh. Wow (taking in that number above). So, you're an art teacher, huh? Kay, I believe you!

And I actually think she gave me double the discount, y'all. As she should all crazy art teachers.

Thank goodness for that wee discount otherwise Ida never been able to make these mini-masterpieces. You know, cuz every approaching-middle-age lady needs a set of Art Supply Shoe Clips, amiright? More on those in a minute, for now, let's talk about that discount-gettin dress, shall we?

You might recognize this fab fabric from my Dreaded Art Supply Order post (which I will be posting a revision of. Y'all made SO MANY super duper suggestions that I've already rewritten my order!). I decided to pair it with some orange and red chevron fabric I thrifted years ago that were curtains in it's previous life.

As for a dress pattern, I settled on that 1970's number on the left. I totes loved the bodice (I fer realz have a thing for dresses with a midriff band. In case you've not noticed every-freakin-dress-I-stitch has a midriff band. Band? Belt? Thangie? You know what I mean). However, I wasn't loving the skirt options. Here's the deal, that mini is just a lil too mini. I don't believe in shaving above my knee caps so I pretty much look like an orangutan from there up. Just ask the hubs. Good thing he's into primates. As for the maxi, y'all, I can't do a maxi in the art room. Every time I squat in a maxi (um, that sounded bad. I mean squat down to pick something up off the ground, not like, to pee outside or something. I may look like an orangutan but I'm not an animal, geesh), I inevitably step on my hem, start to stand and fall over. It's quite classy. For that reason, I decided to go with my skirt standby, good ole Project Runway Simplicity 0320.

Now, let's address the big fat hairy elephant in the room...those 1970's bat wings...

Yeah, those. Y'all know I'm not really a lover of stitching sleeves but I was willing to forego my hate for these guys. I mean in the sketch they looked so hippie and cute! In fact when I wore this dress the other day, all my flower-power teacher buddies reminisced about the dress they had as teens with "wings". However, these guys should really come with some sorta warning label. The entire time I wore this dress, I could see those wings outta my peripheral view and kept swatting at 'em. Once I thought there was a bug on me, another time a bird and I swear I even saw a group of dancing bears. But that was after accidentally consuming some of that Sculpey clay (hazards of eating and crafting). So there's that.

I also have decided that absolutely no dress is complete without pockets. However, I really hate where the pocket are placed in this particular dress pattern. It's impossible to have your hands in your pockets and NOT look like you are piddling (scroll upward, y'all and tell me I'm lying). I opted to use some more of that chevron for pocket town.

Oh! Can we talk about that vintage pattern for a pinch? Cuz it was just about the weirdest pattern I've ever used. Tell me if you find this odd: it had me separately create the front and back of the dress...

And then stitch the front and back together at the side seams. Huh? I mean, I've always done it where you make your bodice and your skirt and attach those together. I actually kinda liked it this way as it made gathering the skirt portion a lot less taxing. I just found it kind of odd...have y'all every sewn a dress this way? What are some of the pros and cons cuz I'm thinking of going down this road again when it comes to other dress patterns.

Oh, look, crafting shrapnel. This is what you don't want your dinner table lookin like, FYI. Not unless you want Dancing-Bears-on-Shoulders hallucinations. 

To make these into shoe clips (and sweater, hair, nipple, whatever clips) I simply glued a little alligator clip on the back. I'm kinda addicted to making these right now (well, as of last night) but I'm in need of more mini-suggestions. Whatcha got for me?

And there you have it, kids! An ensemble that will most definitely get you stares and the occasional discount. Off to see if it'll work at the liquor store! 

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DIY: The 7 Habits of a Crazily Dressed Art Teacher

That's right, ya'll. It's my closet. While I do share it with the hubs (my apologies, dear), he owns just a small piece of real estate [not pictured, those aren't his leopard print pants, I swear]. Lemme tell you what you are lookin' at here from left to right: on the left shelf: summer sweaters, shoes, bags and more sweaters; on the top row of hangers: tights on hangers (so I can easily find ones to match my ensemble), skirts; on the lower level: pants and blouses; middle: (more) sweaters, pants (what?!), under-stuff (I don't have a dresser, so this is where I keep that kinda stuff); right: dresses. Lots of dresses. clear plastic tubs above: winter duds.

The hubs is currently reading that uber-famous Steven Covey book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. And I totes wanna know those habits (because I secretly wanna rule the world and dress ya'll in Crayon shoes) but I also totes don't wanna read the book (even though I'm pretty sure one of those aforementioned habits would be "don't be an illiterate lazy a**"). So, every evening at dinner, I casually ask hubs about the book to trick him into thinking I'm making polite conversation when really I just want the Cliff's Notes. But I think the dude is onto me. Because, at the end of every ever-shrinking conversation, he says:

"You should really just read the book."

And, maybe I will. Although I'm more of a trashy/smutty summer novel kind of girl. If only Covey's book was titled something like "Fifty Shades of Highly Effective Bridget Joneses" we might be curled up on a beach towel together. For now, I'll just borrow heavily from his book for the title of this here DIY blog post:

The 7 Habits of a Crazily Dressed Art Teacher *

1. Do What Feels Right. 
Okay, let's be honest. I look ridiculous. Like some sort of Rainbow-Brite/PeeWee Herman love child. And that might not be the look you are going for. Because how many times have you woken up and thought, "You know what? Today, I'm gonna dress like a rainbow shot out of a unicorn's a**." So, you should always, always do what feels right for you. For me, in the beginning, tiptoeing into the pool of Crazy Art Teacher meant stepping up my accessorizin' game. 

2. The Devil is in the Artsy Details.
Have you ever noticed that little people notice the little things? Like the time you only put your eyeliner on one eye ("Mrs. Stephens, what's wrong with your eyes? One is fancy the other is sleepy!") or the day you opted out of wearing a Bumpit ("Where is the prettiful Mrs. Stephens? Your hair is so...sad.") Yeah, you pretty much have to sweat the small stuff with the smalls because...they notice everything. 

So, why not bank on that?

Start by accessorizing. I began with something small, cheap and easy (um, no comment): pins! Pins are great, ya'll, especially for those of us that wear a lanyard or an apron all day. In the beginning of my art teacherin' career, I got big time into making pins outta Sculptey which fed two needs: a creativity itch and that desire to be different. When I found that the kids responded to that little touch of pizazz (anyone else hate that word?), I decided to expand my accessory repertoire to necklaces (DIY directions for that necklace above, go here.)

Most of my necklaces are either thrifted, sale-racked or handmade. Details on that embroidered pin here. 

Scarves were another one of the first accessories I wore in the art room on those days when the heat just decided to up and die. I remember once when I took a scarf off during a lesson when a student said, "Oh, please keep it on! It's super cute!" And, well, you know I'm all about the Super Cute. Because I'm 12.

Why not put ever accessory together in one ensemble? Headband, check. Scarf, checkity-check. Tacky gold belt, done. Cup of tea, like a boss.

Another fave accessory: Head Gear. Well, wait, not THAT type of head gear, I already did years of that in my adolescence. Head decor, I mean. Anything to jazz up the 'do is a do in my book. Details on the sushi headband here. Pencil clip DIY here.

Because nothing says "Crazy Art Teacher" like this kinda Head Decor.

3. Make a Leggy Statement (Added Bonus: Never Shave Your Legs Again!). 
These days, you can find tights in just about every color of the rainbow (thank you, Target) and for cheap. I'm in the habit of only buying things that are on sale for a coupla reasons: 1. They's cheap like me. 2. You'll notice that only the "weird" (read artsy) stuff makes it to the sale rack. That's because the rest of the world, which is inhabited by Non-Crazily Dressed Art Teachers, steers clear of 'em. Perfect for the likes of us.

Amazon actually carries a huge selection of artsy tights. Don't believe me? Search "Starry Night Tights" and tell me I'm fibbin'. Sweater DIY, here.

While you're thinking of legs, don't forget your feets. I'm kinda prone to heels although I do keep a pair of ballet flats in my art room when the dogs grow tired. The majority of my shoes are thrifted (that might gross you out but my tolerance of disgusting is off-the-charts) and then DIY'ed. The crayon shoes, leopard print, glittery and blue splatter paint shoes are all of my footsy-masterpieces.

Follow this linky-loo for all the gory foot-feitishy deets, yo.

4. Put an Apron on It. 
Let's pretend for a sec that I'm Beyonce (not a stretch, right?) and Ima singing a version of "All the Single Ladies" which I like to call "All the Artsy Ladies". And it goes like this:

'Cause if you liked that dress, then you should have put an apron on it
If you liked that top, then you shoulda put an apron on it
Don't be mad once you see that kid got paint on it
'Cause if you liked that skirt, then you shoulda put an apron on it
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Seriously. Aprons are cute and fun to make. Like that dorky one above. Do yourself a favor, put an apron on it. 

5. Shop that Thrift Store like an Art Teacher/Hoardin' Boss. 
If you aren't thrifting your art teacher duds, you are seriously missing out. My fave thing to do is to go with a group of art teacher buddies. They'll talk you into buying the most craziest of things. I'd say that about 70% of my closet is thrifted and I'm cool with that. 

What do I look for at the thrift store? Anything odd, unique, colorful and pattern-tastic. I usually steer clear of fad fashions as I've found that I usually end up giving those right back to thrift store months later.

A peak at the pattern-y duds in my closet.

6. Create Your Own Clothing. 

Okay, that sounds totes overwhelming, right? So, kids, start small. Like I said, I began by making pins outta clay. When I first decided to tackle clothing, it involved me literally gluing stuff to a dress because I didn't know how to sew. Then my mom bought me a sewing machine, I read the manual and created some super ugly things. That I loved and wore with pride. Then I started felting after watching a coupla youtube videos. These days, I'm usually confident that when I come up with an idea, I can make it happen. I enjoy doing that. You might also...but your creative outlet might take you down a different path. Follow it. You might be surprised what crazily-dressed artsiness awaits. (Campbell's Soup Can Dress, here. Hokusai's The Great Wave Dress, here.)

7. Nay the Naysayers. 

Now, as you embark on your Crazily Dressed Art Adventure, be prepared to be met with some resistance. I know I've had my share. From that stranger who snapped my photo at Starbucks and posted it on Facebook to comments like, "Why are you wearing that?!" by a colleague, just brace yourself. Not everyone can handle the scandal. That's why they're not art teachers, ya'll. Or, at least, the ones with ballz. And you, my friend, I can tell have some Big Bad Artsy Balls. So embrace your crazy! And share it with your students. You won't regret it. Although your significant other might. (Totes Crazy Art Teacher Outfit DIY, here.)

Until next time, let your Crazily Dressed Art Teacher Freak Flag Fly!

* Disclaimer: This here blog post is for the Art Teacher Ladies out there. If there are any art teacherin' dudes that would like to share their Crazily Dressin' Tips, shoot me an email at cassieart75@gmail.com!

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