the uncanny

January 8, 2023

A while back I was driving down a long highway listening to a podcast about the iconography of halos in history and art. The halo, a perfect circle, often glowing, is situated above a person’s head. It’s a signifier of holiness, otherness and mystery. But then, as my mind wandered over the ideas of perfect circles and mystery, a car drove by towing another car that had the words broken halos printed on the back.

That’s what I mean by the uncanny. There are messages buzzing through this universe that, if I pay attention, if I concentrate on the now, if I notice what is odd or exotic, I may get a glimpse into the magic of being in this universe.

Have you seen those photographs of the universe lately?

I’ve been thinking about species and the vast number of them that are disappearing. I’ve been thinking about politicians and how they are lured into power vortexes where progress and empathy for the other is thwarted. I’ve been thinking about our species and how we seem to be pre-disposed to war. I’ve been thinking that life is short—too short to answer any of my questions with reliability.

I’ve been thinking. What if we are just another Petri dish in the grand experiment of the universe? Which vectors will finally bring us to nothingness? What will be left? Will new species emerge?

Free-motion quilting on canvas, entitled snifferskin — Sniffer skin, Paula Kovarik

Sometimes I just have to shut it all down. The questions are too big. They bring anxiety, anger and worry. Stitching helps. If I consciously tap into the motion and method of stitch I come closest to BEING HERE NOW. I think that all artists, writers and musicians seek that motion. Maybe the politicians, judges, generals and bosses would benefit from a little stitching. A little ripping out. They could get their own perfect circle hovering above their heads.

A new species

I created a new species this week. Using the stitched canvas shown above, these little guys emerged from the ooze. I’m naming them Sniffers. I have a litter of eight. The little slideshow below introduces each one of them.

Sniffers, a slideshow of fiber art by Paula Kovarik

If I place them just so, they create a perfect circle. Sniffing the air for answers. Big questions or small, my focus is on noticing. Change. Mystery. Differences. Words. Species. Developments.

The Uncanny.

fraud, fallout and fervor

December 5, 2022

I spent last week full of imposter-syndrome doubt. Looking around the studio I saw past efforts, early experiments and final failures. The cacophony of the surroundings not only confused me it also impeded my thought process. I kept staring blindly at the design board and finding ways to avoid anything at all having to do with making art. I walked out and sought solace in distractions. Database cleanup? yup. Instagram surfing? too much. Fabric folding and organizing? Ad nauseam. Asking questions like “what’s the point?” oh yes.

Fallout

I am a determined artist. I believe that process will bring insight and stalling is part of it. Though those gaps in activity engender a feeling of inadequacy I must try, discard, try, discard, try, discard. I have to be relentless. When I could find an opening in the doubt cloud I worked on this piece called Surge. It’s about deterioration as well as growth. Inspired by rotting wood, colonies of organisms and pathways of growth, it gave me a map to follow in my panic. Yes, it is a kind of panic for me. A feeling that I can’t come up with something original, something that transcends the obvious.

Fervor

Nature has it right every time. As an example I have this magical driveway. Every time it rains the cracks in the surface are revealed. They fascinate me. The organic shapes and fissures tell stories. It’s like the earth below is trying to burst out. They beckon me with the mystery of that transformation.

I have begun the process of interpreting these magical messages—it’s a start for a new map. I don’t know where it will take me but I feel the fervor again. Reminding myself that it is process not product that is important.

I will start again.

A little respite

October 20, 2022

This year has been a whirlwind. I traveled more. Taught more. Made more art. Had more questions and found few answers. I am in a state of transition I think. So much of making this art is about questioning why and for whom and for what?

I spent the past couple of days creating a catalog of the HERD show in Clarksville, Tennessee. It was a good exercise. One that summarizes the statement I was making. The show was a lot of work. As I explored the medium and the 3D forms they took on a life of their own. Even headless they spoke to me. The folks at Austin Peay State University made it even better by supporting my vision. I especially loved talking to the students at the university. Many saw fiber art for the first time. I felt good about the result and didn’t really question why I made this art until it all came back to me and invaded the studio. Making it was a natural result of being in process. Thoughtful explorations resulted in work that was bigger than I thought it would be. And now it goes in storage.

The work ahead is to find other venues to which I might send this menagerie of thought and process. That’s the busy work of being a non-represented artist. There are few opportunities to take over a gallery with stuffed headless creatures.

And that’s why I am asking why and for whom and for what.

Click on the image to see the entire catalog in pdf format.

Share your thoughts:

Does it matter what happens after the show?

The tip off

August 24, 2022

Here’s a quick post about a piece that came together this month. I had some precious moments between teaching and preparing for the show at Austin Peay. It was good to be back in the studio, surrounded by raw materials.

It starts with some of those raw materials—pieces of cut up quilts, some fabric from Pat Pauly, and a bird chirping a new tune outside my window.

That bird was blasting it out. It seemed like a warning cry or territory claim—something that couldn’t be ignored. I listened to it for quite a while and looked around to see if there was a snake or another bird infringing on its territory.

Designing is a series of choices. This not that. Maybe some of the other stuff? No not that. I add and subtract, growing the piece until it starts telling me what it needs. Nothing is sewn together until I feel like there is a right way to put two pieces together.

I thought maybe the bird needed a witness. So I built one.

I did like the silhouette of the human but did not like the bottom part of him. So I lopped that off and added a wider expanse. The swirly inkblot came from a piece I did last year that happened to be hanging near the design board—a perfect candidate for the warning cry coming from the bird on the left. You can see how I debut other pieces below the composition. Some make the cut, others go back in the raw materials bin.

There comes a time when I do have to commit. I reassemble the composition on a table to be able to pick up each section to connect them. They’re like puzzle pieces. ….I do love puzzles. Each piece is butted up to its mate and stitched with a decorative stitch or free-motion stitch. Since the pieces are already quilted it would be difficult to seam them so this butting process makes that a little easier. The decorative stitching can be more or less obvious depending on how I want the piece to look. In this case I used black thread to emphasize the connections.

All along the way I add some detail stitching. In the case of the image below I thought the background floral fabric was too bright so I painted it with some thinned fabric paint to allow for the detail stitching to stand out more.

This dialog between the bird and the human became a warning cry to me. Living in a city I am aware of how little green space we have and how much is being paved over. So I crowded in some buildings.

**The Tip Off.** 26” x 69”, found fabric, cotton thread, wool batting. Paula Kovarik

The final piece. Maybe. I’ll let it sit awhile before I decide if it is really done.

Want to take a workshop?

If you would like to learn by doing I will be teaching at a number of locations this fall. Check the listings at right for how to register. I will be teaching free-motion stitching in San Diego at the SAQA Summit Conference September 22-24 and an At Play in the Garden of Stitch workshop in Miami November 3-6. That one is a combination stitching and collage class.

Progress shots

May 16, 2022

People ask me all the time if I have a plan in place for the work I do.

I don’t. Not anymore.

There are enough raw materials in my studio to inspire me to experiment rather than plan . I have come to understand that my process is more important than the final product. So I play instead of work. I daydream instead of analyze. I start instead of stall.

This piece, Beware the Jabberwock, revealed itself after much experimentation.