I am not ready

I woke up this morning with a clear message from my dreams. (imagine the voice in my ears)

I am not ready.

Fractured focus has taken me down pathways of neglect. In preparation for leaving my studio for a long vacation I flit from one must do to the next without breath between. The end of the day feels like it used to when I was working 12 hour days. And now I realize that they feel that way because I am working 12 hour days.

Research, practice, confusion and debris play little games with my timepieces. Do I go down the rabbit hole of new ideas or focus on this little tendril not yet tamed? Multi-tasking dilutes wholeness. I swoon next to the whirlpool of too much. Am I in the deep end just treading water?

So, yes, I'm not ready. Not ready to focus with intent. Not ready to leave my nest of toys. Not ready to commit to one direction with my art. Just not ready.

Nevertheless, the plane tickets are bought, housing reserved, itineraries roughed in. I can't tie this sewing machine to my back (though I certainly will have some lap work to do in the carry on bags). Traveling will bring new perspective if I let the list grow short. Or not. It could be a way of adding to the pile.

Breathless and anxious. These are both signals for overload. No turning back now.

I am ready.

traveling on

The initial sketch for the Stream of Consequences piece started with the idea of inter-connectedness and how the city wove itself around a meandering river.

The Earth Stories exhibition curated by SAQA is soon to close at the San Jose Museum of Quilts and Textiles. In the nick of time a blogger and journalist, Patrick Lydon, took the time to see the show and review it. Reviews of art quilt shows are few and far between. Each one gives quilt artists a little jolt of excitement when it appears.

Patrick is Founder and Director of SocieCity.org, a network of artists, writers, and sustainability practitioners who focus on the relationships between people and the places in which they live. HIs blog and the SocieCity site are great places to find good news about the world through stories, images, and film. I was truly enthralled by the many stories told and recommend it to anyone looking for GOOD news. There really are some good news stories out there contrary to what our national media hands us on a daily basis. 

Patrick was generous in his praise of the show. He studied the pieces carefully and learned about their back stories. He was particularly generous with his praise of my work: Stream of Consequences. Patrick's reference to a quote by Muir, one of my heroes, gave me great joy:

Kovarik’s quilt reminds me of famed naturalist John Muir’s observation that “when we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.”

I finished Stream of Consequences in 2013. It has been traveling ever since.

When a piece travels with a show it takes on a new life. It becomes its own.  That transition from art I own to art that moves on is one of the primary reason I do this.

Art must move.

Published!

The June/July issue of American Craft Magazine has a feature article about me and my work. When Julie Hanus contacted me about this article back in January of this year she asked "I have exciting news (I hope!): We'd like to do a feature story about you in our June/July issue. Are you interested?"

did the earth shake?

After an in-depth interview by Joyce Lovelace in February I have been holding my breath about the outcome. Joyce posed informed and insightful questions which required careful thought to answer. It went by in such a rush I wasn't sure what I had said. She did a great job and the article is bolstered by many photos of my work. Robert Rausch took photos of me in my studio and made me feel comfortable despite my dread of camera lenses. Thanks Robert, Joyce, Julie and the entire staff of folks at American Craft. I am overwhelmed.

Where are my tap shoes? I need to dance.

Lifecycle of an art quilt

It occurred to me this weekend that some pieces have limited life cycles. And others just seem to live on.

Normally I work on a piece because I have to. It is a compelling, urgent need to create. If I am lucky, and the construction and execution satisfies me, the piece ends up in my portfolio. Once there I look for opportunities to show it to others. Through calls for entry, or on my living room wall, the piece needs to speak for itself at that stage. Sometimes it doesn't get a chance. The reasons might be:

  • I am just plain worn out after working on it and it has to go into storage before I can look at it again, or
  • It doesn't speak for itself without explanation (what was I thinking?), or
  • It's too ripe and needs to be sliced into pieces, or
  • I can't find a show for it to belong to (this is VERY common), or
  • I can see ways I might improve it and it goes into the think-about-it pile.

Other pieces please me so much I have to have them near. This piece I did in 2004 is one of them. It was one of my first art quilts. It has many faults but great presence. The stitching on the back caused bearding which looks like little hairy outgrowths of fuzz in a field of black. It was not intended believe me. The fill stitches in black on black are highly irregular. The piece hangs wonky — a pleasant wonky but nonetheless distracting. It probably won't ever go into a show unless I include it in a solo someday. So it lives on in our TV room warming the wall. And I am pleased with its longevity. I hope it has a long and prosperous life.

Amished, Paula Kovarik, 2004, 85.5" x 60"

wobbly and askew

Having just returned from a trip to Portland I am wobbly and askew. Catching up on correspondence, planning upcoming journeys and trying desperately to focus on work, I flounder in the soup.  This shadow is a good metaphor for how my head feels. Pointy and tilted, looking down while trying to stand up. I may try to stitch it this afternoon. Nothing to lose.

Good news today in the swamp of email. I have been chosen for a solo show in the Nashville Airport. It makes my head spin. More details to come.