Years ago, when the kids were little, I never threw out old clothes without checking to see if there was anything useful left to them. I learned this by watching my Mom, who tirelessly dismantled old clothes and salvaged parts of the fabric, buttons, trim, patterns, and even took out the zippers.
If it was a skirt that I especially loved the way it fit, I would take it apart, iron all the pieces, and use it for a pattern to make a new skirt.
All these were expensive components to someone (that being me) on a very limited budget. I loved the challenge of making something new out of something "not so." It was fun making designer clothes for Martha and Molly out of anything and everything, and I even made some "Oshkosh B'gosh"-like overalls for Noah when he was a toddler. (Remember those cartoonish bib jeans that were as wide as they were tall? Too cute!)
The weirdest thing I did was in 1970. Some friends had just reupholstered their couch and had given me the leftover fabric. I had just seen the first pictures of "hot pants" in Women's Wear Daily, or Vogue, so it was a new concept. I decided to make a pair out of some of that leftover velvet upholstery fabric. They looked great and I actually wore them to a wedding party at their house. (Luckily, I was nowhere near their new couch!)
Anyway. . . I was thinking about these wonderful memories last night as I was trying to get to sleep. Then I thought . . .
What if I "harvested" parts of old tangles, re-purposed them and gave them a new life??? Of course this exciting new idea- didn't help me to get to sleep, but, hey, you do what you gotta do.
I went through my old tiles looking for salvageable parts that I could re-assemble into new versions of themselves. I came across some lovely Printemps, and thought, hmmmm. . . . what would these look like in 3-D from a side view? Or some Silly Putty(R)-ed cubine, stretched beyond recognition?
Maybe sew them together into a Renaissance "Ruff"? Or, if I sliced up a cool version of Huggins, hammered them into ribbons and edged it with some "beads". If, over time, I harvested and trimmed a "mess of wild and crazy mookas", could I not crochet them into a lace of sorts? absolutely. . . . I must!
But . . . it was only when I pulled apart the zipper, that I could really see . . .
. . . the sky was the limit in the world of Zentangle!