stone faces

Thirty stone stories. One at a time.

Love the smudge on the eye. I think I'll add more of that.

I'm using a raw canvas on this piece and double batting. The texture is amplified because of it.

Adding details by hand gives more character to the stones. My fingers are sore.

Each panel has its own story. The background texture is a wavy line. I used black thread in the bobbin to reinforce the little black dots that connect the lines.

Each panel has its own story. The background texture is a wavy line. I used black thread in the bobbin to reinforce the little black dots that connect the lines.

I started this piece without a backing fabric. And I am not tying and knotting the threads. The back is pretty dang amazing. Maybe I need to add more of this texture to the front too.

silent witness dialogs

In a crowd I wonder about the people who surround me. Is that laughing couple making fun of someone or have they just heard a good joke? Do those children belong to someone in the crowd or are they lost and looking for a home? Does that woman look angry because of a sagging mouth or is she is disgusted by what she sees? What is their inner dialog? What would it sound like?

Thousands of stories, one little street in Rome

There are strangers among us, Paula Kovarik

In high school a friend and I used to go to O'hare airport (when it was legal to go to the departure gates without a ticket). We would sit and watch the travelers and make up stories about their lives and destinations. This one was a spy going to Poland, that one was a starlet on her way to Hollywood, those two just learned that their uncle had left them a fortune. We always added a sense of drama to the mundane.

People dressed up to get on planes in those days. No one had wheels on their luggage so there was a lot of lugging going on. Grim determination was mixed with anticipatory grins for the adventure before them. It wasn't difficult to imagine legends behind their gait.

These rocks are watching.

Last year I spent a week at the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. It was an opportunity to refocus my inner dialog. I collected rocks, hiked every day, watched the sun set into water and imagined the stories behind the people on the beaches. The rocks I collected had holes in them. They reminded me of faces. I thought of them as silent witnesses to the human drama that surrounded them.

Now I am assembling my own crowd using these inanimate objects to build an animation. Each square has its own story. Thirty-five of them — because the whole is almost my height and I can reach both sides to hold the edges.

Silent witnesses, work-in-progress, canvas, thread and batting. Paula Kovarik

details details

Every piece I make usually has a spot of blood on it — a record of the poking, prodding and pinning that happens while stitching. I used to clean each mistaken drop, but now I leave the evidence. It hurt when it happened. It reminded me that I am alive and not just subsumed by the warp and weft of the cloth before me. It's a symbol of existence — a forensic artifact that ties me to the art.

Catalysts has a forest of bamboo below the images, each horizontal stitch was an opportunity to poke through my finger.

Sinking into details is part of my process. Each stitch added not only embellishes but also brings focus to what I am feeling. Stitching also renders me mute, so when I poke that needle into my skin the little yelp that escapes my brain reminds me that I am present.

What would this eye be without the spec of gold in the pupil?

What would these lines mean without the distressed cloth beneath?

What would this tangle of threads mean without the swirl of activity within?

going with it

Texture, detail, flow and mystery. Those are my muses. I work in fabric because of it. Joining pieces of cloth with stitch mimics the way my thoughts labor toward understanding. Each bit brings me a little closer to a dialog, each stitch animates the landscape.

I started this piece a week ago. There was no plan. I chose instead to let the scraps tell me who their neighbors should be.

Steeples and antennas fascinate me. They reach toward space with great force, probing the mysteries.

There was some wonkiness in my piecing, a little wave of impatience showing in the edges.

Adding a horizontal grid of black on black stitching created a subtle atmosphere behind the structures and stabilized the wonkiness.

Stitched details add life to the passive two dimensional surface.

Pieces like this make me smile, they seem to need a soundtrack.

I haven't named it yet. It needs to stay on the board for a little longer.

letting the unknown in

This piece has been lingering on my boards for about 4 months. Every morning the sun streaks across it to spotlight the fact that it hasn't been resolved yet.

Recently someone asked me "what compels you to do this art?" and I answered in a very vague manner:

I want to let the unknown in.

Yesterday I was reading a great blog called brain pickings and they had an article about Alan Lightman and his book Sense of the Mysterious. His explanation about the mysterious state of creative inspiration compared it to planing while sailing. He says it this way:

"…every once in a while the hull lifts out of the water, and the drag goes instantly to near zero. It feels like a great hand has suddenly grabbed hold and flung you across the surface like a skimming stone."

I compare the feeling to what it must feel like to take flight, or launch into space, a sensation that takes you away from here and now consciousness.

Gathering, huddling, blind witnesses

Is that what I am after? An addictive search for otherness?

For me, answers to mysteries only come after exhaustive exploration. And still they can be mysteries. Awe paddles me forward so I tinker around the edges until I am ready to jump in. Showing up, head down with full focus, moves a piece forward. My theory is you just have to show up with intention day after day until you are free enough to feel the wave. Letting go of preconceptions rather than allowing a piece to breathe its own air is one of my many challenges.

 

Silent witness - obstruction.

Silent witness - obstruction.