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Dragon Time Again

September 2, 2018

Every year for the past 5 years, I have built a soft-sculpture dragon for the silent auction for my company’s global conference. Well, the time has come again and once more I’ve left things rather later than I wish I had, knowing there’s no one to blame but myself! I had actually bought the fabric for the new dragon quite some time ago and intended to get started sooner, however, life, Mum’s knee replacement, new carpet install, chronic procrastination tendencies, etc.

So, I finally got most of the pattern cut out and traced for sewing. I use Melinda Patterson Small’s terrific dragon pattern with some modifications that I found from the amazing doll artist- Martha Boers . I also made some adjustments of my own as I’ve built this pattern multiple times now.

My first soft sculpture dragons were made from a Simplicity pattern I bought some years ago (pattern 4063):

I built several as gifts for my cousins that we were visiting. I’m pleased to say they still enjoy them.  Here is the cover page for Melinda Small Patterson’s dragon pattern:

I thought it would be interesting to document my particular dragon-building process.This is part 1

Here is the fabric for the new dragon on the table, washed, ironed and ready to cut:

Pattern pieces placed:

Some pieces get traced and stitched:

This will be the bottom of the foot. I’ll do the top of the foot in the blue

Next time: interfacing and preparing the parts.

Making

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Ozymandias

April 15, 2016

I met a traveler from an antique land,
Who said two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half-sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings.
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

— Percy Shelley

Poetry