In the Weeds

January 17, 2019

It’s about the process. I’ve said it before and I say it to myself every day. But it’s more than that. It’s about connection, meditation, intuition and evolution. The work I do is no longer precious, no longer final, no longer static. It lives on, breathes inconsistency and opens new insights. This process keeps me thinking. This process brings pieces together. Here’s a brief summary about the process for a new piece, In the Weeds.

I started with this piecing composition. My thoughts were about sentinels — beings tuned into signals that may not be heard.

In+the+Weeds%2C+original+stitching%2C+Paula+Kovarik

I did a lot of stitching on this piece, both by machine and by hand. There was an inkling of dissatisfaction during that time. But my motto tends to be “more is more” right? You can see the warping that is happening to the piece as I add more texture. Not a good sign most of the time.

I let it hang on the studio wall for about 4 weeks. Then I put it into the divide and conquer bin. This piece would not see the light of day until I could resolve its main problems — frivolity without reality, composition inadequacies, warpage meant for the sea not the wall.

Then one day I had an itch to destroy, erase, and engage.

Preparing for action. In the Weeds - Before

I ended up with 96 4” x 4” squares. And it felt really good.

Reassembly took a few days. This was one of the solutions I had. Still not there. I attach the blocks to a substrate. This time I used drapery blackout fabric. It stitches very well and maintains its shape.

Of course, I am not shy about adding details. And, I added a few pieces from other quilts that were in the divide and conquer bin.

It was about this time that I knew the title of the piece, In the Weeds. According to the Cambridge dictionary: Concerned with so many problems or so much work that you are finding it difficult to deal with something; or concerned with small details, often when this prevents you from understanding what is important.

I’ve been in the weeds about a few things lately. Understanding what is happening in our governmental bodies, concern about the environment, moving into the third period of life. The catharsis of stitching helps quell the storm.

In the Weeds, final composition. Paula Kovarik, 34” x 39.5” The sentinels are still there but they are more active in their environment. — *In the Weeds*, final composition. Paula Kovarik, 34” x 39.5” The sentinels are still there but they are more active in their environment.

In the Weeds, Paula Kovarik, back panel. — *In the Weeds*, Paula Kovarik, back panel.

many moons

November 28, 2018

I was not in a colorful mood. So this piece will linger on the boards for a while before I get back to it.

I came back from a number of trips last month with a swarm of images floating through my thoughts but no map to figure out how they go together. It was frustrating to feel so aimless. I looked around at the work that I had done prior to my trips and felt totally disconnected from them.

My friend Jeanne Seagle, a very talented artist here in Memphis said the following in an interview: “Make a lot of work. Put the good stuff in shows. Recognize the bad stuff, and put it in the closet. After a while maybe you can fix it. If not, you can still learn from it what not to do. Just don’t show it.“

After a few days and a number of puzzled thoughts I decided to be radical. I took out all of my older pieces lurking under the studio tables and made some judgements. Some still spoke to me about their intent and focus. Others did not. Some showed a learning curve in the stitching that no longer represents my work. Others were pieces that didn’t get done.

This piece never got done. It was an experiment with geometry and connections.

I chose a few and laid them out on the cutting board for some fun with rotary cutter.

Fun with my rotary cutter. No piece is sacred.

This piece, called Keeping up with the Dow Jones, was done in 2009. I’m over it.

Just that act of cutting up several pieces into 2.5” squares was a release from the aimlessness. I wasn’t sure where I was going to go with it but I knew it was the right step. Catharsis. Resolve…and a little panic.

After some mix and matching, twisting and turning I finally came up with a composition that seemed to hold together. I stitched the squares onto a canvas backing. All 420 of them.

And now the fun begins. My goal as an artist is to channel what is invisible into the visible. The work I do is intuitive and exploratory. I’m never quite sure what will result with a piece like this. I just know that I am channeling lots of different emotions and thoughts. Beauty, complexity, doubt, anger, worry, whimsy, calm and depth. They are all in there. The layering of stitch and fabric brings out the best (and worst) of me.

I’m going to call it Many Moons. Because that’s how long it will take to finish it and because its taken me many moons to get to this stage in my work.

stall

November 13, 2018

I travelled a lot in October. I soaked up inspirations at museums, in class at Arrowmont and while teaching and gathering with friends. It was a long time away from the studio.

During that time I brought my Bernina to our local dealer for maintenance. So my main machine is missing in action. It takes my dealer 5 WEEKS to finish the maintenance. 5 WEEKS. How crazy is that? And, unfortunately for us in Memphis there is no valid alternative at this time. I have 2 weeks to go before I get it back.

This hole in my table normally houses a Bernina 740.

Then, upon my return I decided to reconfigure a few things with the help of my very wonderful husband. He is helping me install more design wall space which meant that the current space was disassembled and piled onto the work tables. The place is a mess.

Styrofoam insulation board and felt will give me a space of about 7 x 14 feet to play with. Then with a roller track above the wall another 8 x 8 space in two panels that will move side to side. Space, glorious space.

I am at sea

untethered

wondering

The tale of the crankie

August 30, 2018

It was fate--the day I learned about crankies. Ever since seeing a Red Grooms exhibit at the Brooks Museum in Memphis I have been haunted by the idea of a moving quilt. For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about go to this website for a fun trip through crankie land. So here's the tale of the tape for my crankie, I watch too much tv news.

I watch too much tv news

It started with a box of white cloth scraps. I assembled them roughly into a 16 foot scroll.

I added focus points to the scroll by sandwiching colored scraps between the outer layer and the cotton batting. I admit that it was quite random at this stage. I really didn’t know what my story was going to be.

Next step was to stabilize the layers. I stitched along each seam in white or black thread. If the seam was horizontal I added a black thread line that highlighted it to add a sense of action to the piece. There were a lot of seams.

At this stage I decided that the piece was going to be about my anxieties regarding our government and how the media hypes up my anxiety. This initial stitching was about the pussy hat march.

Sometimes the drawings seemed too literal so I tore them out. Goodbye pussy hats. Don’t get me wrong, I am a strong supporter of the womens march. The drawings just seemed too specific.

Eventually the scroll filled up with monsters, money, vultures, disasters, boulders and tv heads. It took about 3 weeks of stitching to get to this point. Catharctic.

I’m not comfortable if I don’t have a project going so when we were preparing for a road trip that would last a few weeks I rolled up the scroll and put it into a bag and carried it with me. Each night I would add more hand stitching.

Details added depth.

With the scroll finished I enlisted my son to do a video of it. We taped it to the hallway wall, mounted a camera to a skateboard and recorded a non-stop video. It gave me an idea of what the scroll would look like in motion.

We even tried it outside with his drone. That’s me ducking as the drone came over the scroll. Crazy.

I started thinking about the housing of the scroll and decided that, of course, it should look like a tv.

My friend, Yvonne Bobo, came up with this brilliant way to configure the scroll in a housing that could be mechanized.

Here is our test quilt in the contraption she created.

My brother, Charles Havelka, refined the set up and built a beautiful cabinet for the piece. He is a master woodworker.

I couldn’t be more proud of the final product. And, I couldn’t have done it without their help. There were times of despair and times of hope and challenge. It’s a folly, I know. But it was worth the journey.

Here's a video of the scroll in its entirety. Enjoy!

Beastie Boy and His Pals

August 14, 2018

Sometimes pieces emerge out of my subconscious without warning. My task is to allow that to happen. That is what happened with Beastie Boy and His Pals.

I am appalled by the way our government is being run. The creatures that inhabit the power centers have changed the way I think about threats. As a citizen I vote in and pay attention to local, regional and federal issues. I read articles that discuss both sides of issues. I listen to the news from other countries. I try to sift out the skewed, embellished and outright outrageous to come to an understanding. And I feel helpless.

Solace comes in the work.

Beastie Boy and His Pals started with this scrappy composition. I have learned that scraps can talk.

The composition had two sides. A cool side and a warm side with static in between. Similar to the dialog being broadcast to us each day without rest. Like the two parties playing their he said he said game.

As mammals we are predisposed to see faces in inanimate objects. The instinct is a way to protect ourselves from potential threats. So as I added sections to the composition I started seeing beasts -- beasts with eyes, beasts with tails, beasts with goggles. I liked how the three beastie figures outlined in the pic at the right started to create a nest of a composition.