I love a parade

Wrestling with rectangles to create 3D forms just seems like the right thing to do right now. Slicing, folding, forming, stitching, stuffing and exploring dimensional work is a substitute for the quiet contemplation that is required for stitching at the machine. I have to find ways to inject humor and distraction into my news cycle. My body is not my body right now. It aches with worry for the future. I have nervous energy. Itchiness at the edge of consciousness. Sorrow for Ukraine, Syria, Afghanistan, Ethiopia. I feel like we are marching into mountains of disaster. I am building a parade—headless beings marching.

These headless creatures have taken over my studio.

I imagine these creatures as travelers. They could be immigrants, exiles, or blind and willful followers. They have piled their belongings onto their backs to move into a future undefined. They carry their wounds, their heritage and history. They leave family behind and seek family ahead.

They toil and fail and get up again.

Each day they join the parade of the absurd.

I might need more space soon.

Art that travels

I teach next week with the Design Outside the Lines workshop led by Diane Ericson. It’ll be new geography for me. They say that Ashland is a magical town. A week away with creative stitchers always inspires me. It might be best all around for me to let these creatures be for a bit.

My piece, In the Weeds, is showing at the Eastern Tennessee State University Slocum Galleries in a show called Positive/Negative 37. So proud to be part of that innovative show. If you are near their campus drop in to see some great work.

I am preparing a show of my work at the National Quilt Museum in Paducah, Kentucky that debuts in May. The museum has offered me a corner gallery. Working with their curator, I have chosen a selection of my work that represents some of the many directions I have traveled as a stitcher.

I am honored to have been chosen for a residency at the Virginia Center for Creative Arts in June. Working for 22 days in isolation among other artists including writers, painters and photographers will be a new challenge for me. It is on the top of my mind these days. What to bring? All the toys or a slim selection? More on that later. What would you bring to a residency?

I'm breaking out of the rectangle

Cutting up quilts has become a hot topic out in the quilt universe. Many fashion houses and Etsy shops and clothing designers have recognized the incredible raw materials of hand crafted textiles and are beginning to offer items using those scavenged quilts as raw materials for their products. Everything from placemats to red-carpet robes are multiplying and monetizing something that should really be honored, cherished and preserved. Mary Fons made a great presentation regarding this issue on You Tube that has since been taken down. But you can find discussions about it elsewhere on the web.

I remember seeing an ad with the Kardashians in underwear sitting on quilts. I admit I was affronted by it. The juxtaposition of a vintage quilt and white tidy-whiteys on social media personalities was somehow reprehensible to me. It felt like appropriation of something I held dear. I do understand why the art director thought it might be clever though. Quilts have gravitas, memory, comfort and soul.

Melee is breaking out of the rectangle that normally holds my work. This piece includes pieces of cut up quilts that have diverse textures, colors and stitching. It has since been morphed into a pod seen below.

Some have asked me what I think and how my practice of using cut up quilts fits into the discussion. Yes, I do cut up quilts. They are quilts that I have made or have acquired through friends. They represent work that I did in the past and no longer seems relevant in my here and now. The act of cutting them up is deliberate, catalytic and scary. I know when I get out the rotary cutter that I could ruin something that I once cherished.

At first I was using cast off trimmings in the new collages. Then I looked around at some of the pieces that I had created earlier in my career and realized that storing them rolled up in the back room was getting me and them nowhere. Many of them had excellent texture, color or story in them that could live on in a new piece.

Here’s my base understanding as an artist: It’s process, not product. If I think of a piece as something that could have monetary value or brand recognition it loses it’s soul. I will cut up my work to use it again. I will not cut up someone else’s quilt without permission. I won’t cut up vintage quilts found in estate sales. Those have soul. Those have history. They are still warm, comfortable and represent someone’s careful work.

For now, I am cutting up quilts to create 3D forms. I connect the pieces, cut in darts, resew and add curves, then stitch again.

It’s process, not product.

cut and come again

In vegetable gardening the term cut and come again means you harvest the outer mature leaves of lettuce, spinach or greens and let the inner leaves continue growing. I thought about that when I cut up a couple of my quilts this month. Disrupting and Disruptors are two quilts made from cloth I printed with a steamroller a few years back. The design began as a sketch, was transformed to a 4’x8’ woodcut, printed onto fabric with a steamroller and then quilted into three different quilts.

The final quilts looked like this

One of them (the green one below) actually ended up in Quilt National. But the other two travelled a bit and ended up in my storeroom. Because they had similar stitching and similar content I thought it might be interesting to cut them up to create a new piece.

I started with the Disruptors piece by cutting small pieces to create a traditional Storm at Sea pattern . It had light, dark and medium areas that would work for that pattern.

I spent about a week rearranging and cutting pieces up to create variations of this pattern. But I wasn’t getting anywhere, the piece looked boring, bland and bad. I needed more variety and depth as well as a looseness that the Storm at Sea pattern didn’t give me. So I took out the second quilt and cut out some more of the pattern pieces. Adding color to the monochrome composition helped but didn’t inspire me to continue. I piled up the scraps and waited for a miracle to give me a new idea.

I thought that I had just ruined two good quilts.

It’s process not product

When I got into the studio the next day one of the quilts was laying on the table with the holes cut into it. I realized immediately that I liked it better than the patterned work that seemed so labored and boring.

I filled the holes with pieces from the second quilt. The inserted fabric pieces are connected with a ladder stitch by butting the edges together. Then, more stitching merges the background with foreground. Below are some details of that added stitching.

Thus, two became one. I’m still fiddling with more details and I’ll have to stabilize those loose ends but I think this one is about done now. On to the next challenge.

Layered Chaos, 66”x44”

Ping Ponging

I have spent a month in my studio ping-ponging from one thing to another with an itchy feeling of missing the ball every time. No focus, no inspiration, nothing. I did the usual exercises to jump start my ideas: cleaned the studio, organized my thread drawer, read about other artists, and walked aimlessly through the neighborhood with my phone camera.

Nothing.

This often happens after finishing a piece that consumes my imagination. I had just finished Encounter, a piece that really birthed itself made up of pieces of canvas on which I had dribbled paint and ink. After that cathartic experience I wasn’t sure where to turn for the next inspiration.

Encounter, 34x41, 2021, Paula Kovarik

I needed to move into a new headspace. A friend of mine gifted me yards of Silk Noil. The fabric is luscious, soft and raw looking. I decided to use it to revisit an idea I have worked on before: exploring marks that could illustrate words not spoken. Inspired by hieroglyphs, runes and Arabic script this visual language can be a way to communicate broader concepts.

Glyphs, 27x18, Paula Kovarik, 2017

Better Not Said, 41x26, Paula Kovarik, 2019

I started with a drawing to remind myself how these marks can be put together. Generally I try not to have a preconceived notion about how they should look. Instead I draw each mark in a random way then start to fill in the spaces that become available. I have noticed that I naturally follow an implied north/south east/west underpinning. I wonder why that is? I also like connecting the disparate shapes with unexpected lines.

Glyphs doodling.

Glyphs doodling.

Once satisfied with the density of the marks and the feel of making them I was ready to try it with stitch. I set up three 21”x21” silk noil sandwiches with some wool batting, drew a chalk circle onto each one and started stitching. Here are the results.

I don’t spend a lot of time on these exercises. Each square takes about two days to come alive. Using a neutral thread that matches the fabric to create the outer texture defines the circle a bit more and adds an element of energy to the composition. I don’t bury the threads on those end points preferring instead to use my machine’s automatic cutter that knots the threads on the underside. The back is not pretty.

I’m not sure I have broken the cycle of ping ponging. I am about to travel and teach so that might bring more inspiration when I return. Hope so.

How do you break the cycle? Drop me a note!

Puzzles

I love puzzles. It’s a treasure hunt with rewards. Something about that quiet contemplation of shape, color and texture soothes me.

I guess that’s why I am drawn to this art form. Piecing together disparate elements to create a whole is a challenge that never ends. This particular piece grew from scraps of quilts gone by — those pieces that didn’t quite make the cut in other quilts have a new life here. I stitched the scraps together using my free motion foot or a decorative stitch that added to the level of detail. As I was piecing together these scraps characters appeared, shapes repeated and textures multiplied. I used the base composition as a stage for other characters that I added in with overstitching.

Things we might not notice without closer inspection. 2021, Paula Kovarik

The following are detail shots that might give you an idea of what started to appear as I was working on the whole. I started to run out of scraps toward the end. Which gave me a choice: cut up another quilt or finish the composition. I decided to end the composition here so that I could focus on other ideas that are floating in my studio. I may come back to it if other scraps become available.

rawandreassembledstitchpractice.jpg

Let’s stitch together

I’ll be teaching stitch techniques in San Diego in September. Click on the image to learn more.