silent witnesses

Just back from an energizing Common Thread Symposium at North Carolina State University where I met some inspiring artists and fiber art teachers: Susan Kay-Williams from the Royal School of Needlework at Hampton Court; Katherine Diuguid, an incredible hostess and talented fiber artist;  Susan Brandeis, Ilze Aviks, Andrea Donnelly, and Jeana Eve Klein to name a few.

A greek chorus in the fiber studio -- whispering to me.

This greek chorus in the fiber studio stood silently witnessing my attempt to show others how I do my work. I couldn't help but identify with their headlessness. When speaking in front of a crowd I feel a little weightless, as if floating and wandering through a third person narrative. I have to trust that my remarks make sense. The students were engaged and interested, and despite some hitches in equipment failures we had a good time learning from each other. I am hoping that they will pursue some of the drawing exercises we played with in their own work.

These silent witness birds gaze out to the lake as if hearing voices.

When I got home this two yard print from Spoonflower was on my desk, spurring me on to work on my Silent Witness project. The photographs from my residency at the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore have inspired this project based on all those animate and inanimate objects that are witnessing our actions on earth. It started with this photo but then moved on to photos of rocks with faces.

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Rocks with faces, stitched on canvas. Those shadows give me some ideas of how the next stage in stitching may proceed.

A lot of the artists I talked with over the weekend spoke about the meditative quality of this work. Hours alone focusing on stitch helps me to clear out confusion, simplify meaning and intensify my message. So when I am burying threads and watching the sun pass over the cloth I think about the passage of time, the care in detail, the silent witnesses to understanding.

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Burying threads is an exercise in patience. When I work on something that requires it I think about the finite quality of it. What might feel like an endless chore actually does end, with patience.

exuberant distractions

How can I resist these colors? Why am I sitting in front of computer instead of grazing idly through the parkscapes gathering up the color? Fall beckons. Make haste to the outdoors.

Hardy Ageratum and Henry's Garnet Sweetspire.

I will continue the hand stitching on this piece (The grass was greener) outside, in the lingering spectacle.

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The grass was greener, detail, Paula Kovarik, 2015

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A potential stitch pattern? Hyacinth Bean vine takes over the back deck.

big blank wall

Distractions, responsibilities and confusion have set my studio in stasis. The design wall has a big blank hole on it. About two weeks ago I took out one of those precious pieces of cloth I have collected and pinned it to the board. It is a piece of hand woven linen. With slubs and weight and presence. I found it in a junk store in Germany and instantly knew that I had to have this cloth in my work.

Problem is the preciousness. How to deconstruct, define, deepen (and defile?) the cloth with my visions? Those little hand stitches that join the two panels down the center of the cloth have to stay in honor of the weaver. The slubs provide their own layer of texture and depth. Stitching, marking and moving beyond the original cloth challenges my resolve.

Usually when I come to this stage in a work I start with a clear concept. A couple of the ideas in my sketch stash could work with this cloth. But which one? Which is worthy? Why?

For now I will experiment on smaller cloth. Stained and tattered placemats with scalloped edges present a pallet without risk. Without gravitas. The big blank wall will have to wait. I feel the breath of it whispering.

Sew first, plan second

When Kathleen Loomis sat down to write her book about designing quilts she must have had a lot of fun because this book is chock-a-block full of hints and happiness. She has taken a simple traditional block, the Rail Fence block, and turned it on its ear. Never will you see so many variations of striped blocks.

Not only is Kathleen a master quilter, she is also a seasoned teacher and writer. She speaks to my heart when she says Sew First, Plan Second. I've never been patient enough to sit down and plan, map and build a quilt. The few times that I did that the life went out of my studio. I felt like I was a prisoner wrapped in freezer paper. Just can't do it. Kathleen's experimental layouts and clear diagrams of different settings make thinking about your own design as simple as, well, jumping a fence.

But wait! There are bonus sections. Kathleen generously gives us some very sage advise on choosing colors, mixing values and using focus fabrics. Hints for assembly give us a hint on how she approaches her own work. Her questions and answers will serve beginners and experienced quilters alike.

So, if you are also impatient to get it going, take a look at this book. Through easy to follow diagrams, samples and questions, Kathleen will make designing your own quilt an easy and exciting new venture.

See Kathleen's blog here.
See her award-winning work here.

Reading through Kathleen's book these past couple of days made me get out some of those scrap rail fence blocks in my stash. I think I may have moved too fast! Maybe I need to re-read a couple of chapters.

Here is one of Kathleen's rail fence quilts, this one all in plaid.

tool kit and two weeks

I am preparing for an artist's residency at the Indiana National Lakeshore in September. Rounding up the essential tools is actually a bit challenging. Do I need my sewing machine? Should I bring my computer? How much fabric? Will I work on new ideas or bring an existing project?

Can I cut fabric without my self sealing mat and t-square? Should I focus on ideas rather than production? Will I be able to change my focus from my studio practice to a more free-wheeling experiential style?

They are all good questions. But the answers won't be clear until I get there. So I have narrowed the selection down to these essential hand tools: Black and white YLI thread, chalk marker, machinger gloves, Mr. Tweezerman tweezers, an assortment of hand needles including two self-threading versions, rotary cutter (and blades), fabric pencil, seam ripper, scissors in two sizes, silicone thimble, extra bobbins and my phone for recording images. Those will all fit in a small bag.

I won't bring the t-square but I will take a small mat to cut on. I will bring linen napkins to use for compositions, some white and black Kona cotton, a roll of cotton batting and my sewing machine. I'll borrow my husband's laptop so that I can still upload photos and write my journal. I won't have a design wall, a fabric stash or large cutting and ironing tables. I won't have my day-to-day routine or chores to do to keep the studio and house going. 

I will have new horizons, new climate, new input. Turning the head to a different focus is a good thing.