Transformation

I am reading Annals of the Former World by John McPhee. It’s not an easy book to read. It focuses on geological formations and geologists and time. Geologists read rock like we read books. McPhee travels across the United States with five different geologists who decipher the terrain as they travel. Many of the sentences begin with the words billions or millions of years ago. Deep time.

When I read books like this I have to slow down. I admit that I skim past words that are unfamiliar hoping that the author will let me in on the secret in future sentences. I also acquire new words. Like lithic and Eocene and physiographic and down wasting, folded-and-faulted, fatigued rock, incompetent rock and inequigranular fabric.

I love rocks.

Morph started with scraps of other quilts.

Morph started with scraps of other quilts.

Thinking about the beginning of time and forces beyond our control I started working on Morph. The bag of scraps came out and I stitched them together.

Morphbeginning2_PaulaKovarik.jpg

The piece grew to metamorphic blob. Metamorphism, as I understand it, is actually a process by which minerals are formed through heat and pressure.

Morph, hand-stitching detail, Paula Kovarik

Morph, hand-stitching detail, Paula Kovarik

Geological processes take time. Lots of time. The details in a substrate can tell the story of millennium.

Morph, machine-stitching detail, Paula Kovarik

Morph, machine-stitching detail, Paula Kovarik

Morph, 3-dimensional form detail, Paula Kovarik

Morph, 3-dimensional form detail, Paula Kovarik

As I added details to the melange of fabrics I also added seams that molded the fabric into hills.

Morph, 50” x 46” x 6”, 2021, Paula Kovarik

Morph, 50” x 46” x 6”, 2021, Paula Kovarik

Billions of years ago this little patch of land I sit on would be at the bottom of a shallow ocean in a different continent altogether. Only one thing is constant: change. Morph can morph. Turn it 90 degrees and the sags sag in a different way. Hang it upside down and the terrain folds to a new narrative.

The final piece speaks to the ideas I had while reading McPhee’s book but also to how I feel about emergence, transformation, bulging body parts and sagging sentiments.

This past year built a tower of insights for me. How about you? Tell me about your stories of transformation.

Playtime

The other day I looked around and had a choice. I could finish a number of pieces that are still in process, clean the studio, create new work or drive into the sunset. I decided to let the stitch tell me what to do. There was quilt back laying around from a piece that never did get finished. So I sacrificed that piece to an experiment.

Playtime in black

Well that was fun. Now I need to go on to finish some of those pieces that are aching for some final stitching. Or not. Maybe I’ll try this again.

Playtime in white

Another day another distraction

Since I can’t really drive into the sunset this experiment in stitching brings a little joy instead.

Give it a try!

An interview with Jane Dunnewold

I had the delightful opportunity to talk with Jane Dunnewold last month as part of her Creative Strength Training interview series. Jane has a robust and comprehensive variety of classes and lectures for artists that are recognized world wide. Take a moment to learn about her practice and her class offerings here. I just registered for one of her lectures today.

Here’s the video recording of our conversation.

When is enough enough?

I stitch a lot. And I have a lot of raw materials that can be stitched.

So I do.

I stitch.

I collect scraps of my quilts that have been chopped up to create new work. Most of them already have stitching and batting and backing so the work is chunkier, more detailed and textural when I use the scraps.

These are some of the quilts that went under the knife this past year. They live on in new work.

A number of the scraps looked like leaves. The toothy quality of those scraps gave me a starting point. I had an idea of creating a jungle of objects.

A number of the scraps looked like leaves. The toothy quality of those scraps gave me a starting point. I had an idea of creating a jungle of objects.

After assembling the scraps I started stitching to make them more consistently textured. The details add action to the piece and connect disparate elements. When I connect the scrap pieces I usually butt the pieces together and over-stitch with a decorative stitch or free motion stitching.

I do love how this section has face, a leaf that could be a feather and a dragon.

So about this time I have to ask myself when is enough enough? I admit that this texture looks wacko. I mean it to be disturbing and frantic. I think my stitching is taking a journey through chaos these days. Does extra detail bring coherence? Am I channeling this confusion to release tension? It just feels right to me.

We Don’t Really Know, Do We?, 27” x 33”, Paula Kovarik

I’m not sure if it is done. Or if it needs more, or if I will cut it up and start again.

Time will tell.

if at first …

trying trying again …

I had this idea long ago that I could create floating globes that would hang in space and allow viewers to insert their heads into them for a different sensory experience. (See It didn’t work for another go at this idea.) For the past few weeks I have been thinking about meditation and isolation and how important alone time is to me. Sometimes I have to shut it all off and just breathe. What if I could create a globe that would isolate me from that emotional and physical noise?

This second try started with a reworked piece that didn’t work. I had all these scraps that were aching to be put together. But the result was just cacophony not simplicity.

I didn’t want the isolation chamber to be all chaos so I created some new raw materials with canvas and black thread. The black thread story line added more narrative to the piece.

The new black and ivory canvas wedges were too stark so I added stitching to them to complement the triangle wedges.

I lined each panel with lace to obscure the chaos outside with a calmer feeling inside.

I sewed all the wedges together and ended up with a loopy globe.

When I reinforced the top and bottom edges with a pvc pipe insert it hangs fairly evenly.

I’m still working out some details. I embroidered a strip of fabric on the inside that says calm_down_calm_down____calm_down__calm_down. And I am rigging the globe so that it can hang from a hook at head height.

So, now, if the news is making me crazy, or my thoughts are too scattered, I can retreat into my own little isolation chamber. A quiet space.

Do you find that you need a space to escape?