Looking for the pattern that connects

June 27, 2017

Moving through a shattering period of tenuous health concerns and re-defining what is important in life, I was frozen in my work.

So I grabbed a bunch of scraps and started putting them together. That process gives me a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day regardless of outcome.

My thoughts were on how disruption forces contemplation. How pieces have to be sorted and put back together. How mending provides silence for thought.

Someday I'd like to do an installation of all the scraps I have in this studio. They tell so many stories about the effort and work.

As I was putting together random scraps of fabric they were added to my design wall in a rough estimation of a body. I wanted to create a figure filled with anxiety, confusion and isolation. Lonely—moving toward an uncertain horizon.

The piece morphed many times.

At one point it was so tall I had to extend my table.

Loved the action of this one but didn't like the way the figures interacted. Negative space is clunky.

I am always tempted by the backs of these assemblages. I am certain that I will end up turning one of them around in the future.

This solitary figure started my brain working toward a story.

The figure morphed into a tipsy unbalanced figure being watched by a secondary figure.

Experimenting with background and foreground. Still too disparate right to left. The figure disappeared.

The final composition prior to beginning the stitching had a flow to it that leads my eye around the piece.

The resulting composition gave me a number of opportunities for thread stories. Movement, itchiness, hidden messages. Playing with the tension on my thread and using a black thread on top with a variegated thread below gave medotted line that comes in and out of focus.

I see the figure as a witness to the chaos, looking for the pattern that connects.

Below are some of the details.

Almost done. Looking for the pattern that connects. Paula Kovarik 2017 — Almost done. *Looking for the pattern that connects*. Paula Kovarik 2017

edginess

April 26, 2017

I've been thinking about edges today — how they define differences and beginnings and decisions and boundaries. How the term edgy feels comfortable in my skin. How edginess often helps me to push on but at the same time reels me in with fear.

Standing above this pool of wetland gives me the feeling that I could dive into a separate reality. The edges here are about perception versus reality.

I'm one of those people who, when confronted with the edge of a cliff, cling to the nearest tree. I am not one to join others at the edge peering into the unknown. No, not me. Edges are too scary. I know that I will be tumbled into the abyss by the slightest breeze.

But art is all about the edges. And sometimes I am, in fact, tumbling.

The edges of this hole in a sycamore tree beckon curious creatures. There is darkness within.

It's not so much that I don't want to navigate that journey. I think it has something to do with trusting myself to navigate well. Inner dialog is easily obscured by outer pretense. Bare naked exposure can make my skin crawl and my thoughts scrambled. Am I really showing my truth? Or is this an exercise in mending?

Edges of thoughts can be raw, jagged and tongue-tied. Beast (detail) Paula Kovarik. — Edges of thoughts can be raw, jagged and tongue-tied. *Beast* (detail) Paula Kovarik.

Sitting down with needle ready can make the silence roar. The edge is near. Sometimes I have to tie it down in neat and syncopated rhythm. It's a mending or bringing together that makes sense to my sense of order and calm.

Suture stitches mimic mending, holding together differing sides.

Other times I let the static in and the edges can feel like the needles. Hairs on end.

focus on something else

March 29, 2017

I'm reading many things these days. Political rants, financial analyses, artistic journeys, poetry, the Quran, the New York Times, Smithsonian magazine, Harpers and science fiction by Phillip K Dick. A friend suggested My Beloved World by Sonia Sotomayor. I may read that after I finish The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas. I'm looking for a simple, devil-take-the-hindmost novel to immerse myself in too. Perhaps a friendly slice-of-life novel would be a good escape?

Escape, one in the Silent Witnesses series of Stones Who Might Talk, Paula Kovarik — *Escape*, one in the Silent Witnesses series of Stones Who Might Talk, Paula Kovarik

No wonder my art flutters from one point of view to the next. Cool and composed to frantic and obsessive. This is a good thing. And this is not a good thing.

Testing stitching on backing fabric. A mindless task that feels soothing.

Fractured focus breeds anxiety, allows for mood changes, builds new vocabularies and urges me on. The pile of trials on the table are companions on this silent journey I take each day.

Second in the Chaos series. I'm a little tense sometimes.

Anyone have a book they'd like to recommend?

one stitch at a time

March 8, 2017

It's International Women's Day today, a day to reflect on how many stitches it takes to keep this world together. And how many women have nurtured, built and expanded the meanings of love and compassion in the world. Stitch by stitch, tear by tear, step by step. It requires perseverance and unending faith that we can and will make it better. History proves that with each dip into the depths there are resilient wills that move us forward. There are women who walk on despite overwhelming odds.

How can I contribute? What does my practice of art do to expand that goal?

I've been thinking about texture and how hand stitching is so different from machine stitching. The commitment that hand stitching requires is often too onerous for my sense of collapsed time. There are simply not enough hours in each day. Then I relent and ask myself why I think that getting a piece done in a timely manner is more important than just working on the piece regardless of how much time it takes.

So why do we think that these depths can be fixed in one news cycle? It's clear that we are a flawed species, still learning how to bring light instead of darkness to our world. How many artists, politicians, scientists, mothers and leaders will it take to change the course?

I've been working on Fallout for over two years. It is on my table again in response to our world leaders rattling their sabers. AGAIN.  I am adding "suture" stitches to each longitudinal line on the map. They are almost invisible but satisfy m… — I've been working on *Fallout* for over two years. It is on my table again in response to our world leaders rattling their sabers. AGAIN. I am adding "suture" stitches to each longitudinal line on the map. They are almost invisible but satisfy my need to add depth and thought.

I estimate that it will require about 1600 more stitches.

We are all witnesses to what is happening in the world. We can choose to persevere or we can bury our heads and deny the threats. As an artist I am compelled to speak, to work harder, to trudge on despite a feeling of hopelessness and loss. My stitches are adding to the voices that are shouting, crying, and laughing out loud. It's not much, I admit. But it's something. I am doing something to open a dialog. One stitch at a time.

These 9" x 9" studies allow me to experiment more freely with texture and stitch. And now that I have over 20 of them I can start to look at them as a body of work rather than experiments. I'll make one of these each week to continue the collection … — These 9" x 9" studies allow me to experiment more freely with texture and stitch. And now that I have over 20 of them I can start to look at them as a body of work rather than experiments. I'll make one of these each week to continue the collection and plumb the depths of their variations. I see them as snapshots of human interactions.

How many solutions are out there? Can our world leaders find new ways of bringing light to the world instead of repeating the dark parts of history?

It is International Women's day and I hold faith in our wills, as women, to make this world a better place.

variety, as in: life; spice of

February 24, 2017

The spicy tang of variety seeped into my studio this week. I work in series. And I work in serious pursuit of message.

Sometimes I grow weary and feel like I am repeating myself. Other times I am overzealous and over my head. This I know: pursuit is the reason. The act of making, stitching, cutting, pressing and assembling fabrics and threads brings clarity to thought. Believe me, if you sit and stitch for three hours on a little scrap of canvas your mind travels, bends and surges. Here's a little gallery of what I worked on this past week: