I’m seriously into stamping and also bow ties

No guys, seriously. STAMPING. I ran into Deserres the other day and sort of barked “stamp…making things! Where?”

The counter guys didn’t seem phased, just pointed me in the right direction and I wandered into a whole new world. I bought Speedycut lino blocks, and fabric paint, and a lino cutter set, and then immediately set to work on projects.

This translates into me ripping off the packaging of all my new things and sort of staring at them, asking them (telepathically) “how do you work and how”. It’s a process. Eventually I just picked up the pointy things and made a huge mess. The second try was better. Loads better. I’ve now made three stamps and they’re all beautiful (this is subjective, because I’m biased).

Taking it to the next level: stamping self-drafted pattern pieces with self-carved stamps….how did it come to this. How.

So of course, I can’t just stamp normal things. I have to stamp, like, really complicated things. It was my dad’s birthday a few weeks ago, and he’d been complaining that I keep making bow ties for other people, but not for him. My dad, he does not wear bow ties. Ever. If he must wear a tie, he wears his bright red tie with spinnakers all over it (colourful sails for sailboats). He’s a sailing man, so I figured this would be an appropriate rival for the spinnaker tie.

Light, navy cotton with swiss dots is pretty sweet for bow ties in general, but turns out stamping little white sailboats all over the fabric after cutting out the pieces was the best idea. The fabric paint cured after five minutes under the iron, and then I was away to the races! Sewed it all up, and here’s the finished product:

Ta-da! Birthday present for father. He was pleased.

Ta-da! Self-tied bow tie for father. He was pleased. (Disclaimer: this is so not my dad in the photo. This is me.)

I’m really excited. I plan on stamping everything. Y’all better watch out. Nothing is sacred.


steel girl

take my melted flesh and bones
pour them into this hourglass
let them set until
the heat fades
these pliant steel struts
wrap around me, I am chosen
I am a steel girl, laced in the past
half history, half whispered triumph.

I received a corset for my birthday, made at Lace Embrace Atelier in Vancouver, BC. It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever owned. So many people pitched in to make it happen, it was incredible. My friends are the best friends since chocolate dipped pretzels.

When I wear it, sometimes I feel like I’m nullifying decades of feminism and battles for women’s rights, but then I think “it’s my right to wear what I like, and what I like happens to be a corset”. I wasn’t born in the wrong era, I was born in exactly the right one: where a girl can wear jeans one day and a corset/crinoline/bloomers/skirt/blouse outfit the next. I can get tattoos and piercings, go to university, speak my opinion freely, and vote on election day. I can learn my favourite things from every era and chances are, there will be a subculture in Vancouver replete with weekly or monthly events and like-minded people for me to share my interests with. Burlesque is making a comeback. Steampunk was invented. We have healthcare and plumbing and corsets and pocket watches and Lindy Hop, and I plan on revelling in every patchwork minute of it.

© Emily Bragg 2013

3am why’s

I’ve just had that moment where I’ve reread the instructions for my assignment and realized I’ve been writing in the detail that a 6-8 page paper deserves, and all they want is one page double-spaced. I chose a poem that’s 94 lines long. Ffffft. 

Grumpy Cat AWesome

This is my score for myself. I can’t remember where I got this from. If it’s yours, please tell me, I’ll give cred. It’s lovely.

And so it goes. Tomorrow, stay tuned for a) why my friends are the best friends ever, and b) how much Afrikaans I’ve learned in the past two hours (it is so difficult my mouth doesn’t make those sounds). Cheers.

Birthday Festival Begins

Today’s my birthday.
A one-woman holiday!
The party starts now.

My family adopted a new tradition about a year ago from one of my parents’ friends: Birthday Festival, also known as Birthday Week. Starting a day before your birthday (so as to include the last day of the previous age), you get to do/eat/party whatever you like for a whole seven days. Within reason, of course. For some reason university doesn’t accept “Birthday Week” as sufficient reason to extend paper deadlines.

For me, this is the perfect invention. I love my birthday. Always have, always will. I think it has something to do with my being very self-centred, because the thought of a day where everyone is nice to you and you get free things (sometimes) AND presents? It’s glorious. Like the haiku above states: a one-woman holiday. All for me (and everyone else born on April 5th, but that’s besides the point). And now it gets to last a whole week! My cup runneth over.


art by me

art by me