Nano-second update

January 7, 2021

Hello out there. I just noticed that it has been over a month since I last posted anything about my practice. Too much time in the isolation chamber I think. The silence can be like an extra layer of batting between brain cells.

My first Isolation chamber. A quilt that I made back in 2010 is repurposed for this piece.

It’s about this time of year that I do a little housekeeping and rearranging. And, that’s not happening. In past years, I might take the time to look forward to new challenges. And, that’s not happening either. New Year’s resolutions? More of the same.

I’m reading Annals of the Former World by John McPhee. In it he describes some of the processes of planetary formation and geological deep time. Deep time. Billions and trillions of years. Getting my head around that concept inevitably sparks a sense of inconsequential reality. On a planetary time scale we are but a nanosecond of reality. And how can I even think about the size and scope of NANO seconds? Smaller than a breadbox? My life is a micro micro nanosecond in the annals of time. The fact that I am trying to express how I feel, think and act through my art is ephemeral and inconsequential as it relates to the reality of the big stuff around me. So little in something so big.

Nevertheless, I persist. Because art is life. Life is precious. Time is short.

Below are some of the things I worked on this year. If you click on an image you can read a little about each piece.

I spent a lot of nanoseconds in the studio this year. And for that I am grateful.

We live in challenging times on a miraculous planet.

How did you spend 2020? Tell me your tale!

Stitched Dissent , a solo show, opened the year and traveled to 2 other venues.

We traveled to Montgomery, Alabama to visit the National Memorial for Peace and Justice dedicated to the legacy of enslaved Black people. A moving and unforgettable experience.

I continued exploring the possibilities of stitching a continuous line to tell a story.

The year started with a focus on cutting things up to repurpose them.

Pink Rivers is a collage of cut up quilts.

Masks made their appearance this year.

The Covid virus became a life threatening danger early in the year and continues into 2021. Contagion was made in response to that.

One day I couldn’t focus so I started cutting up fabric into 1” strips.

A series of black and white masks started with a quilt that no longer made sense to me.

Silos is in response to the separation of factions by media outlets.

I continue to explore pattern with stitch.

The Urban Arts Commission in Memphis, TN asked me to provide some art for a billboard. This is Decision Points, writ large.

3D forms took center stage in the studio.

Masks with character, made with quilts with no character.

I cut up a Quilt National quilt, The Secret Life of Stones, to produce this 9 patch of masks. It now has new life.

Suspicious eyes.

Who doesn’t love a sausage quilt?

Building isolation chambers has been on my to-do list for a long time. This was my first iteration.

More cut up quilts made into sections for another isolation chamber.

The inside of this chamber is lined with lace and has a continuous ribbon embroidered with the words Calm Down Calm Down Calm Down….

The pile of cut up pieces of quilts gives me endless variation for future assembly.

Pod lights can be turned on and off with a remote control.

Alone Together, made in response to the Quilts in Common group prompt of Isolation. The traditional Dresden Plate pattern is missing pieces.

My first isolation chamber kept collapsing so I cut it in half and made a porthole.

It begins with scent

November 25, 2020

The stew is simmering on the stove.

This year is different. We won’t be gathering in person. Instead we chose a food swap. Each household will be making some of their favorite foods and sharing it with the other households. We have vegetarians, vegans, meat eaters, dairy-free and gluten-free family members so we threw out the standard menu for Thanksgiving. I am making a curried garbanzo vegetable stew. My niece made red-bean mochi cake, my son is making his signature deviled eggs and my daughter-in-law is making stuffed acorn squash. In the kitchen there is a bread pudding beginning to take form and I have heard rumors of homemade mac and cheese. Pie is on the menu, of course (thank you Miles and Megan).

It might not be the most coordinated menu and some may choose to scatter the makings across several days but the bounty is glorious.

We have fun at our holiday meals. Years ago I bought some catering tablecloths and fabric markers for our Christmas dinner. Each table setting got a marker to play with. The result has become a tradition. These cloths show children growing up, a scorecard for a family card game, references to Batman movies and phrases of hope. There may be some gravy stains but we don’t worry about those much. Most of all they show our love. They will travel with the food this year. And I will need to get some new ones.

What makes your holidays special?

Send me a note

Wishing all of you a healthy and delicious Thanksgiving day.

We live in challenging times on a miraculous planet. And I am grateful for that.

I’m airing out the holiday tablecloths to ready them for their journey to family homes.

When is enough enough?

November 18, 2020

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.

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 — *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.

Do you spend hours stitching without knowing why? Tell me about it.

if at first …

November 1, 2020

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?

Tell me more!

The Evolution of one piece of work

October 16, 2020

Back in 2015, I had the opportunity to do an artist residency in the dunes of Lake Michigan. I was captivated by the lake stones. They had personality, presence and power.

Soon after I started stitching them.

They populated my studio to the point that I had faces looking at me from every corner. So I started putting them together. I had this idea that they were trying to tell us something but in a language all their own.

I liked how the stitching looked on the front as well as the back of the work. I hand-stitched more texture, added extra batting, and let them tell me what they wanted to say.

The final piece, called The Secret Life of Stones, was juried into Quilt National 2017 and traveled for three years.

The Secret Life of Stones, Paula Kovarik, 2016, 40” x 47”, canvas, cotton thread, wool and cotton batting. — *The Secret Life of Stones*, Paula Kovarik, 2016, 40” x 47”, canvas, cotton thread, wool and cotton batting.

It came back to me last year and went into storage. I really didn’t know what I was going to do with it so I stacked it up with the others and waited until it spoke to me. And, if you follow this journal, you will know that I am in a cutting up kind of mood. Nothing is precious. All things must evolve.

So I cut it up.

And made some masks.

And some more.

It’s showing up in other experiments too. Playful things that give me a little laugh during these stressful times.

There are still some scraps to consider. They’ll join the rest of them in my scrap box.

Every so often one or two of them speak to me and give me something else to think about.

Cutting up what might be considered precious allows me to let go of the legacy of it and be in the moment. I seek that feeling of exploration and discovery in every work I create. Using up, re-configuring, re-imagining raw materials can lead to disaster or development. When it is a disaster, I learn. And that’s what I am here for. To learn, to excite, to think of alternatives. All things must evolve.