Beasts

Some movies, like art, stick in your mind and haunt you for years after you have viewed them. Back in 2012 I watched Beasts of the Southern Wild, a brilliant allegory about love, danger, courage and chaos. The raw story covers themes of climate change, health care, coming of age rituals, family loyalty and dysfunctional government. It touched my heart and lingers there still. In it the Beasts were represented by an ancient species called Aurochs. These are the creatures that the cave painters illustrated. According to their DNA, they are a precursor to our modern cattle.

Playing with three dimensional forms I found a way to change a square into a 4-legged beast.

Here one day, gone the next.

While the aurochs were a robust species they went extinct around 1600 because of over hunting and loss of habitat. It’s a sad but all too common story on earth. 

Cattle are followers.

In our modern day, one may ask: should we act as cattle? Can we decide for ourselves what is right or wrong? Should we succumb to the barrage of media and managed images aimed at twisting our minds to follow or forget? As another failing species, do we not know that war is wrong, lies do wound, and a society built only on individual freedom is bound to hurt us all? When do we change from an I, ME, MINE society to the WE that will heal the rifts?

These guys are not so much an invasion as a reminder that if we go brainless into the future our future will be fraught.

My beasts are cuddly.

Creating headless beasts from previously made quilts is a way I can process the chaos and dangers I see and hear all around me. They are huggable in their innocence. They are each defined by their raw materials. They make me laugh and I imagine them herding together for safety. 

I hope they regain their heads. 

speechless

Navigating the new normal, I am speechless. I can’t seem to get my head into the holiday spirit. It is almost 70 degrees here in Memphis, blustery. That’s just not right. There are hardly any acorns in the yard. The news keeps offering challenging perspectives. Another shooting. More variants. Planes grounded. I could go on. and on. I look for ways to escape the worry by using saturated colors, stitching in mandala form, creating puffy, comforting soft rounded shapes with a hint of rebirth.

At play with stitch

The galleries below offer some distractions in the colors of the season (thank you Kaffe Fasset for the jumping off point). These are 7.5 x 2.5 little collages that give me room to play. I might go looking for some spring colors next. Can you cure melancholia with color?

Many wishes

May your new year be filled with more good news than bad. More potlucks, less politics. More quality, less inequality. More dancing, more laughter, more hugs, more color, more sunshine, more music, more family.

I'm a little worried

Being away from the studio can disrupt the momentum I have in my work. Having just returned from teaching in San Diego and about to leave again for the East Coast, its hard to think about big projects. So I have been doing little things in preparation of the upcoming trip—experimenting with texture, stitching a series of mandala shaped studies (see my previous post here), organizing paperwork, scheduling next year and doing some research. It all feels very minimal.

These lovely bubbles animated the coast while I was in San Diego.

These lovely bubbles animated the coast while I was in San Diego.

I’ll be driving around the Eastern seaboard in the next 5 weeks. Breathing in sea air and exploring new spaces. I get to teach again in the mountains of Tennessee for a week. That always brings inspiration and ideas. I have decided to bring a sketchbook this time. I don’t normally work in a sketchbook. I have several laying around with the first few pages filled and then nothing. Maybe I can build that practice during this trip.

I’m still a little worried. Breaking momentum tends to loosen the strings of ideas. I flounder, get inpatient and ping pong around the studio. I like being isolated in my studio for hours. And, I like traveling too. Both contribute to my stream of consciousness. Both bring insight and energy to my work.

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I think worry is a baseline in my personality. High expectations, subliminal doubt and a sense that I can’t control everything contribute to it. I’m saying it out loud here so that I don’t dwell too much on it during my absence from the studio. Maybe that will work.


Click on the book cover for a link to Alibris booksellers.

Click on the book cover for a link to Alibris booksellers.

Thank you to all of you who have purchased my book. I’ve had so many people comment that they have enjoyed reading it. It’s a real boost to me to think that I can inspire people to try new ways to stitch. I love teaching these techniques. If you are interested in checking it out you can purchase it online or order it from your local independent bookstore. At Play in the Garden of Stitch provides new ways to think about using stitch in artwork and includes exercises, sewing tips and quilt stories.

I wrote a book

At Play in the Garden of Stitch

At Play in the Garden of Stitch—thoughts that come while eyeing the needle. 

Published! Available Now.

I put it on paper. It’s now in book form. This is not a quilt.

I spent part of my Covid year writing, analyzing and illustrating my techniques and artwork. After fifteen years of creating and teaching, it was time to tell my story and share my process in a more formal way. 

This is a book of ideas and exercises for those who use stitch in their artwork. What seems like magic are merely (some simple) step-by-step exercises that will lead you to your own creations. 

This is the story of how I work and think as I make new quilts. It contains both successes and failures as both results can lead to finished quilts. One of my favorite exercises is to chop up a finished quilt to re-arrange and re-imagine a new piece working with elements I like and scrapping those I loathe.

As the great Miles Davis says: do not fear mistakes; there are none.
As I like to say: Art is found in the process. And stitching can take you there.

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The book contains lavish illustrations of quilts from my students and myself. For many of these, I demonstrate approaches to using stitch as an element of design and art. To understand my process, I include essays from this journal that reveal how I follow the thread or pursue an idea. 

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Order “At Play” from any number of bookstores including Barnes and NobleTargetIndieboundDiscover books and more—such as Amazon. And, if you do find that this book has inspired you to try some new ways to create in stitch, please let me know by leaving a review or sending me an email. I would really appreciate it.

If you are interested in stitch and how to express yourself through free-motion quilting, this book will lead you gently down your own creative path. The secret is starting simple and staying at it.

I want to send out a bucket of thanks to my friend, Kathleen Loomis, for her help in making this book a reality. Her patient review of the content clarified my thoughts and made it a better book. Thanks so much Kathleen.

Time

I’m reading a book about geology (Annals of the Former World by John McPhee). In it McPhee writes about DEEP TIME and how the earth has changed over millennia. But I’m thinking about how time is moving too quickly. It’s eroding my sense of rhythm and progress. As a child the year seemed to move at a glacial pace. Now I’m rushing through thoughts trying to make them fit into the hours that I am able to stay awake. I am jealous of every minute spent away from my studio. It’s April already?

I wonder how long it took for this vine to get wider than the tree it is climbing?

I wonder how long it took for this vine to get wider than the tree it is climbing?

Aging brings transition. I am reassembling the priorities in my life—focusing on depth instead of flash and silence instead of dialog.

This might have been a cheery bathroom tile at some point in its life. Now nature is taking over. With time it will disappear and those little tiles will be artifacts buried in layers of time.

This might have been a cheery bathroom tile at some point in its life. Now nature is taking over. With time it will disappear and those little tiles will be artifacts buried in layers of time.

Every year I put a word up on my computer monitor that inspires a long thought, something that lasts longer than a moment, something that can morph over months. I started this about three years ago when I posted It’s Process not Product on my computer. That note is still there. Last year it was Patience. I learned how to say I Can Wait. This year I started with Curiosity because I am still avidly pursuing more detail in my life, more texture, more knowledge. I may add the word Transition to focus on how things need time to change.

What is time to a rock?

What is time to a rock?