It’s finally finished! I’ve had this as my SCA on-the-go project since Gulf War (which was in February, so it’s been a minute). I decided that I wanted to get it finished and usable, so I did a stitching spring to the finish line.
I ironed the cover, but it sat in the hoop for so long that it still has the imprint. I’ll hit it again with some steam before I take it out to an event.
Close up of the crow. My badge (heraldry lesson: your coat of arms is meant to signify YOU or someone you have designated to speak for you, your badge is what you put on things to signify ownership of them) is “fieldless (no background), a crow rising gules (a red crow taking flight).” I want to put it on ALL THE THINGS.
The hoop ring disappears nicely when it’s on the cup.
My innovation for not losing the cup cover; a simple lucet cord attached to one corner and sewn into a loop that hook onto the bead to keep it in place.
I attached it to the corner that would keep the crow moderately upright when it hangs, preserving the display of the badge. Cause I’m clever!
And cause everyone always wants to see the back… I did try to make sure that it was neat, because it will be visible. I am not always so neat when the back will be hidden, such as on a collar or bands on sleeves. Pieces in period are not as neat as we generally imagine, and I am sad when people kill themselves trying to make the backs as neat as the front.
Remember that maiolica tile I painted? Yeah, I still haven’t taken it to get fired, but I painted a plate, too!
A bunch of us got together and bought a few little pieces to work on together. Some of us had practice tiles.
Some of us had plates. Amata threw that plate herself. On a wheel, not, like, against the wall or anything.
It was fun to see the progression from pricked design…
…to sketched outline…
…to finished tile.
I was particularly happy with my plate. I tried to incorporate elements from my coat of arms along with two Tudor roses, one each for my husband and my champion, both of whom have Elizabethan personas.
So, one of the cooler things I got to play with was Amata’s banding wheel, a tool that lets you make perfect circles by spinning your plate and holding the brush stationary. I… may have gone overboard with it on the back. I also added a maker’s mark: “Per Manum Elen,” which means “By the hand of Elen.” My Latin-major friend suggested that I should possibly have changed the name to the genitive case, making it “Per Manum Elenae,” but I didn’t think about that until he pointed it out. I’m just going to use the fact that Elen was suitably removed from classical Rome in both time (1380) and place (Monmouth, Wales) to explain the lapse.